


Fool Me Twice

by DreamingAmethystDragons



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Bittersweet Ending, Contracts, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Demons, M/M, Slow Burn, So Much Snark, in which a bad decision isn't so bad after all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-08-28 01:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8424640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingAmethystDragons/pseuds/DreamingAmethystDragons
Summary: Well, if Sinbad was going to make a name for himself, having a demon as his first subordinate didn't seem like a bad way to start.





	1. Derivation

"Take a step back, please. Thank you. Careful, you don't want to step on those lines."

Sinbad crouched down, eying the thin cross-crossing chalk marks with interest. "You still haven't told me how this is going to work. I mean, I'm flattered. Any kind of help going into this dungeon is fine, but you still haven't told me what you want in return."

The magician straightened, pocking his chalk stub with a sigh. "Well, I don't want anything material, really. I just want to see that dungeon disappear - and, if you do succeed, I'd like to think you'd put it to better use, mm? But a youth like you - no magic, no backup. I think you could use a little help, no offense."

"You could come in yourself."

"No, that isn't really my style. Besides, this is something you have to do yourself, Sinbad!"

"But you just said - "

"Never you mind. Here, catch!" Sinbad reflexively grabbed at the shiny glint tumbling towards him, then opened his fingers to reveal a plain silver ring, devoid of any markings. "Put that on. It doesn't look like much, but I put a tiny piece of your magoi in it. It will help you stay in control, so... it would probably be a good thing if you didn't lose it, yes?" 

Sinbad rolled it between a thumb and forefinger. "Alright, but... would you mind getting to the point, please?"

"Of course! Sit, sit - and put that on, please." At this bequest, Sinbad rocked back on his heels and rearranged to sit cross-legged as the blond-haired man clapped his hands together. "Excellent! So today, kiddo, we are going to summon a demon!"

Wait. What?

"We are - hey, wai-!" The words spilled out of Sin's mouth, but he clamped his jaw shut as the magician opened his palms, glowing spirals of light spilling out over his fingers and falling in milky wisps to the cool granite floor. The white lines surrounding Sinbad began to glow, red, magenta, navy, indigo, rippling and seeming to lift off the ground, trembling. Sinbad tensed, ready to leap up, but was forestalled as the other began chanting, rolling syllables and staccato vowels much different than any speech pattern Sinbad had ever heard. 

The back of his neck crawled.

Then the air in the space between them wavered, bulging back and forth as though some invisible being was caught in a net of wind. Dark cracks appeared, leaking soot, and the chanting increased, faster and faster until –

Until the cracks dissolved from the bottom up, the light fading from the room. All that was left was the pale sunlight filtering through the room's sole window. 

Sinbad stood warily, looking around. Across from him, the magician slumped down, hat hiding his features. Concerned, Sin prepared to step forward - then froze as a hand was held up. "Don't move, Sinbad. It will go badly if you step out of that circle before the contract is made."

"You know, it would have been super helpful if you had told me what you were going to do before this. A 'hey, here's what you need to do,' or something. And I sure as hell don't see -"

"That would have spoiled it, now wouldn't it?" He straightened finally, smiling crookedly. "And it is here. I can feel it probing for an escape - not that it will find one. I do like to think I know my stuff. Now, did you put the ring on?"

Sinbad displayed the sole finger he had slipped the ring onto.

"Well, I suppose I deserved that. Now, it is somewhat under your control since I used stray threads of your magoi in summoning it, but it won't listen easily. Very few demons like humans, and this one seems to solely want to return home if it didn't show itself from the beginning or now that I have explained that it is, indeed, here. No doubt it would have attacked you had you stepped out, and your death would have sent it back in an instant."

"... Alright." Privately, Sinbad resigned himself; this wasn't a shenanigan he was likely to get out of anytime soon. "So, what would happen if I took off the ring?"

"Taking it off only lessens the power slightly - you have to put a lot of determination behind your commands, so the ring acts as a failsafe. Breaking your ring - if you do it, it immediately will punt the demon back to the underground." The magician scratched his forehead, still looking much too pleased. "If someone or something else breaks it - then the contract is broken and the demon can return or wreck havoc in the corporeal world. In other words, do try to guard that ring carefully. It's a one-use failsafe if nothing else."

"Why a... demon? Why not - oh, a magical sword, or something like?" Or something less persnickety and likely to kill me, Sinbad added silently. 

"I wanted to give you a strong source of power - and if this gambit works, then the power you gain will be much more than anything else I could have given you. But we dawdle!" He pulled himself up, sudden, face hardening into uncharacteristic seriousness. "Sinbad, put forth all of the willpower at your disposal. Call the demon and force it to appear - and you must be the one to do so, if master you will be. If I see the future correctly, then this will be a good test of what is to come. This is all the guidance I will give to you - show me your resolve, dungeon-capturer!"

Not yet, Sinbad thought, but right on the tail he amended, But I will be. That's right - if he was going to capture a dungeon, a death-trap, he had to be resolved. Any hesitation here would leave his bones as another unknown soul in the dusty pages of history - and Sinbad had too much at stake to die here and now.

He cast his eyes around, then exhaled slowly. How do I call a demon? He knew nothing save folk-lore and rumor, and still he sensed nothing - or did he? As he trailed his gaze slowly along the corners of the room, he seemed to catch little eddies, small swirls of dust that were implausible in this closed atmosphere. Slowly, he reached to his belt and unsheathed his sword, lightly planting the point on the floor next to him. 

Sinbad ran a tongue over his teeth, then spoke quietly. "Hey. I know you are listening." Something seemed to shiver, like the rasp of scales sliding against parchment. "Will you appear in a form we can see?" No response, and Sin felt his eyes narrow. "Appear, demon!!"

Little black dots seemed to starburst in the corner of his eyes, something fluttered above him. Sinbad gazed upwards and beheld a single rosy flower petal, drifting down from the ceiling - but muggily, as though moving through syrup rather than air, slow enough that the dimensions of its curves could be seen. As it moved to eye-level, it seemed to stretch, a flat plane bursting into space, fractals splitting like fine hairs off its surface- so otherworldly it made the air buzz and his teeth ache. It flipped and formed limbs, a spine curving from the center, claws and bones and the impression of skin stretching rubbery over flesh, darkening and curling, and before his eyes a cat appeared.

This wasn't like any cat Sinbad had ever seen, and really, 'cat' was stretching the description. It was feline-formed, but a little too angular, eyes a little too slanted, ears batlike, with short white peach-fuzz fur Sinbad had never seen a cat possess. The - cat? Demon? - floated lazily at torso-height, curling a tail (the point covered with wispy flowing fur, like the tuft of a lion's tail) as it yawned, then (as though a button had been pressed) it dropped to the floor, four feet tucking neatly beneath it. As Sinbad stared, it raised a paw to its face in a leisurely wash, and then - as Sinbad shot a look across the room, it settled back on its haunches, eying him with a malevolent stare.

Sinbad hesitated a moment more - seriously, what the utter hell? - but then he focused back on the (cat, he guesses that's what he will call it for the moment) and stared back. Thundercloud irises glint at him before the cat tilted its head to the side and lets out a small rowh?

"Are... are you sure you summoned -"

"Yes, yes, that is indeed a demon. Give me some credit, Sinbad!"

Some great mage. Sinbad scowled. "Hey, you - uh - cat. Demon. What is your name?"

The cat, perhaps not surprisingly, did not respond.

I feel like a stupid... "Demon. Tell me your name!"

Then the cat coughed. "Of all the places I could have been sent to. What is up with this dingy, dusty storeroom?" It turned its gaze on the magician, speaking in a low, slightly raspy tenor that Sinbad had not been expecting, because, well, damn. "Shame on you, magi. Send me back. This hatchling doesn't have the slightest whit of sense or... potential, is that what you call it? Send me back. I don't serve weaklings."

"Hey, now!" Grey eyes returned to him, and Sinbad placed a hand on his hips. "That is quite rude to say to the face of someone you just met. Shouldn't you show some respect, demon?"

A sneer looked very strange on a cat. "A fool you are if that is what you wanted. Now, then..." It turned away again. "Now, send me back. You've performed your parlor tricks, but the show is over. I will not be paraded around as a spectacle."

"Turn around."

To Sinbad's surprise, the cat hissed and spun - and glared at him, spine arched and quivering. "I don't take orders from you, hatchling!"

He resisted the urge to step back as a thought poked at the back of his mind. "Unless I was wrong - you just did, did you not?"

A red pulse of fog seemed to emit from the cat, and Sinbad started as it - snapped - forward, expanding faster than his eyes could follow although he could feel it, lengthening and twisting and scaly coils filled the room, whirling and writhing and then a sharp-toothed muzzle was howling at him; the angry face of a silver serpent-bodied dragon filled his vision, hovering a mere foot away. "I did no such thing, stupid hatching! Step back and I will devour your bones and dance on your ashes!"

Sinbad tipped his head back, then shoved his face closer to the quivering beast, smiling toothily with all the nerve he could muster. "Well, well. Maybe the magician was right. You just might come in handy, huh?"

Sparks of electricity rippled off metallic scales like sheets of rain. "Or you could get in my way, and I could chew you up." The pupils inches from his own dilated. "After all, go out into the world as you are now, and that is what will happen. Someday, somewhere, someone is going to sink their teeth into your flesh and rip you inside out. It would be merciful if I did so now, before you have to watch your mistakes pile up." A pair of claws reached for him, grating against the wavering barrier of protection stemming from what Sinbad now realized was a magic circle. 

He moved, swinging his sword up to mirror the movement of those talons. "Maybe I will bet against that. I won't fail, and I will drag you along to prove you wrong. I could do it without you, but hell, wouldn't it be a kicker for you, to have to help and watch me rise, contrary to your predictions?"

The room seemed to waver in a heat haze, curling in on itself. "Fuck -" Then Sinbad stepped forward and the dragon reeled back, coiling away from him. 

"I am making a contract with you, demon. You're coming with me, and you are going to help me. I am going to change your mind -" he allowed himself a small smile - "And I am going to change your perception of humans. Who knows, you might even get to have fun - and if I falter, then you can kill me." 

Sinbad stepped again, fully out of the circle, but the demon was backstepping, ears laid back, teeth bared, but Sin could feel - like an extension of his fingers, like the opening of a third eye - the tensing of hind legs, desperation and confusion melding to rage. Yet these eternity-filled seconds of perception did not cow him; he felt revived, like he had gulped a mug poured to the brim with adrenalin, and it expanded into a core of determination in his breast. 

The dragon sprung –

\- And Sinbad darted forward. shifting his weight heavily back to slide under the lunging torso. He pivoted his weight on his hand and flipped around, sword low to his side, as the dragon followed him and plunged low, tail sweeping around to prevent his escape. Sinbad ran with it, leaping up with a hand planted on a firm back just in time (his hand tingled with heat as it touched moonlight scales) and vaulted onto its back, grabbing at the tangled crest between the base of its shoulders.

The dragon shrieked and bucked, and Sinbad spared a moment to hope that the magician wasn't being crushed before it began to stomp and spin around the room, throwing its weight to and fro. Sin tightened his grip - and after a moment of hesitation he tossed his sword away, letting it clang against the wall. The demon angled its head, and Sin somersaulted forward as teeth snapped inches from his leg. 

Hissing, the dragon gathered itself against the farthest wall, preparing another charge, and Sinbad felt his hands bunch into fists, nails digging into skin as he met the force of that gaze with all the fire he could muster, thinking in a mantra, a prayer, you will not kill me, you will change, and if I can do this I can face anyone who ever doubted me.

The dragon hurtled forward, like boulder bouncing free of the mountain's grasp, like a tidal wave, and Sinbad braced himself in a moment's preparation, and sprinted forward too.

And as the demon's skin seemed to ripple, Sinbad jumped – 

\- The beast seemed to melt in upon itself, fabric spinning out from scales, neck rearing back as though in shock – 

\- And in the next moment Sinbad tackled it to the ground, right hand swinging forward in a punch, but he pulled it at the last minute as he saw the demon's new form.

The same thundercloud-sky slit-pupiled eyes of the dragon stared back up at him, but now the demon was... human, white hair framing freckled features. The demon stared up at him, eyes wide in what Sinbad perceived as shock, and as Sinbad lowered his hand slightly (the other one was entangled in the coarse black fabric of the demon's tunic) he felt the resistance leak out of the body pinned beneath his.

"How?" The demon asked, bewilderment condensed into a single word. "How did you impose your - what did you do?"

Sinbad looked down at him for a moment - thin limbs, slightly pointed eyeteeth - then gently rapped his knuckles against the demon's forehead. "I won, that's what. I had from the beginning." Then he pushed himself up, now aware of the magician stepping closer (so focused on the demon - Sinbad hadn't even registered him leaving the circle) but ignoring him in favor of studying the demon fully. 

It pushed itself up, staring at him. In most ways, it - he? - looked human, with pale features and freckles spilling like scars across its face and neck, clad in a wrap of black fabric around its shoulders and grey, torn trousers. Bare-footed, with the edges of scars wrapping around its legs, it rose to one knee - and the only decidedly non-human aspect now was the silver tail, much like the cat's to the tuft of fur at the end. The magician reached Sinbad's side as it tried to rise and slumped back, hands hitting the ground.

Sin looked to his right. "Yunan, you are an ass. I want a warning next time." Disregarding the magi's shrug, Sinbad looked down at the demon. "Why did you shift? I expected more fight than that."

Hands curled against the dusty floor. "Believe me, another second and I would have..." He glowered. "You forced me to change. Now, let me up."

"What do you -"

"I can't stand because of you!"

"Hm." Without warning, Sinbad stepped forward and crouched down to the demon's eye level, ignoring how it jerked back it surprise. "Does this mean I won? You accept me?'

That tufted tail lashed back and forth, but then the fight seemed to leak out of his body as he lowered his head. "Your will was greater than I expected. For now, I will submit."

Sinbad looked pensively at the bead bowed in submission. If he had put up that great of a fight, then Yunan, for all his scheming, was right - this would be a useful alley. Nonetheless, the small voice in the back of his mind felt awkward, imposing his will on a creature whose first wish was to return home (balanced though it might be by the indignant voice of his ego). The form of the dragon leapt to his mind's eye - elemental and chaotic, but in no way different than any other force of nature. Sinbad rocked back on his heels and stood, then offered his hand out - and watched silver eyes shoot up as Yunan made a soft oh.

"Well, welcome aboard, my first subordinate. My name is Sinbad, son of Badr and Esra of Parthevia." He grinned, feeling the aftermath of battle adrenaline leaving his body. "Come with me, and we'll see who is right about my fate. Will you accept my contract?"

The demon stared up at him, eyes narrowed. Then he reached out a hand (the nails narrowed to sharp, delicate points) and took hold of Sinbad's hand, and Sinbad forced his eyes to stay open as a tingling warmth sliced up his arm. "Very well. But remember, step wrong -" It stood up, rolling a shoulder as tiles of light tilted in his eyes, "And I will kill you without hesitation. Do you think you can handle that?"

Sinbad did not relinquish his grasp, gazing down at the shorter demon. "Gladly. If I back down, I will take your claws without regret. Now, what is your name?"

And for the first time the demon smiled, fierce and knowingly. "My name is Ja'far."


	2. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time jump; from here on out, the chapters won't necessarily follow a linear order.

Many Years Later 

Sinbad sighed as he reached the top of the steps and stretched, slowly and leisurely, letting his arms sketch a lazy arc. He resumed his stroll down the short hallway, taking the time to let the day's worries slowly drip away as he let his mind wander in the awareness of the present, taking in the torch-studded city below and the star-smattered sky above though the windows to either side. Even at this distance, he fancied he could still hear the aching rush of the waves, pulsing ceaselessly to and fro, a rhythm that had rocked him from birth. 

It felt good to place his hand on the handle and let the door swing open soundlessly, opening to his chambers. He loved his people and his country, no matter what effort was wrought from him in exchange or blood and sweat spilt, but at times like this he just needed to let them sink back, to become someone who was not a king but just another soul after a long day of work. Closing the door behind him, he slipped out of his shoes and stepped forward, eyes half shut and reveling in sensation - the cool stone floor beneath, the soft rub of fabric against his chest, the itch of his metal arm pieces where they clamped around his wrists. It was with more than a bit of relief that he reached the stand beneath his bed and wrapped his hands around the pieces, first the left, then the right, and let them drop onto the polished surface. The necklaces came next, jangling softly as the links clinked together, and then all but one of his rings, leaving him bereft of any jewelry save his earrings and the unadorned ring (moved only months prior from its age-old position) on his fourth finger. 

Instead of laying on the bed, Sinbad chose to sink down onto the low couch on the other side of the stand. Slowly, distracted not by the day's events but a winding kind of reminiscing, he shrugged off articles of clothing; the turban came first, freeing long unruly locks, and Sinbad leaned over to place it next to the discarded necklaces. His upper wrap came next, and he loosened the knot and draped it over the arm of the couch. The clothes that had been underneath followed, and Sinbad stretched a leg out over the couch as he ran a hand over his bare torso, turning his body so he could lay vertical, looking out at the soft candle-lit familiar surroundings with contentment.

His eyes had drooped shut and he was in a muggy state of comfort when he felt something tickling the hairs of his arm, like a beetle trundling over his arms. He brushed at it, shifting, and when it resumed after a moment Sin let his eyelids flicker, too at ease to react with anything more. Then he felt light pressure against his forehead, like someone pressing his hair aside, and Sinbad (realizing what it was) let out a short bark of laughter before opening the arm that had been laying over his chest.

A moment of nothing, then small paws padded up his body, a small furry body nestling onto the plane of his chest. Sinbad felt his lips quirking into a smile as he brought his arm back down, letting his hand drift slowly around until he could stroke soft peach-fuzz fur. Several minutes passed like this, Sinbad mindlessly trailing his fingers in circles, and when a soft purr finally began to buzz above him he spoke. "Did you have a good day, my foremost advisor?"

"Yes, it passed favorably. I must say, it is a nice change, seeing you work so hard, even if those poor soldiers you sparred against had not the chance of a mosquito in a tsunami."

"I'm not surprised you were watching; I thought I felt you. Where were you earlier?"

"Down by the docks. The fisherman were worried since they have been netting less than usual, but a good haul of mussels came in. It smelled horrible but there were many pleased faces."

"Did you have a hand in that?"

"Certainly not. I can't help those who can't catch a few shelled critters."

"Mhm."

Paws kneaded against his chest. "You seem awfully at ease."

"Have I a reason not to be? Especially if you're here..."

"Hypocrite." Despite the harsh word, Sinbad could hear the slightest undertone of affection in that raspy tenor, and he finally opened his eyes to smile at the cat gazing out across the room.

"You've gotten mellower," Sinbad observed, and the cat turned to look at him, displeasure glinting across thundercloud eyes. "Yes, yes, I know," he amended, partly in jest, "You're a scary, scary demon and I should be trembling in gratitude, but at least I didn't call you cute this time, Ja'far."

"Humph." A tufted tail twitched against his side as Ja'far extended a paw, digging needle points delicately into his skin. "At least you know your place enough for that." Slit-pupiled eyes stared into his. "Do you want me to change?"

Sinbad let his head tilt to the side once, noncommittally. "I mean, I know you prefer being a cat if you've been human all day. So you don't have to force it for me." He let his eyebrows wiggle. "I know you can appreciate me no matter what form you are in." 

The cat sighed and laid its chin against Sinbad's collarbone. Sinbad watched it, timing the rise and fall of its chest, before closing his own eyes again.

The warmth emanating from the cat seemed to pulse, and suddenly a heavier weight was residing on Sin, hair brushing his nose and a hand curling gently over his shoulder. He looked down again and studied those familiar freckles, letting his eyes trail over the contours of a bare back. Ja'far had shifted with his lower robes still on, and his obi, but at the lower edge of the fabric Sinbad could still discern the motion of his tail, the end of the grey tuft peaking out occasionally. Sinbad ran his hand up and down a warm back, humming softly. "Is this alright?"

Ja'far's head nodded against his chest.

"Alright." Sinbad let his fingers curl in the small of his back. "I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy this sensation, just so you know. But let me know if it's too much."

"I will, Sin." Ja'far's eyes were open, the light from the candles sending tiny glints spiraling in their depths. "But really - you do seem unusually relaxed, so I'm curious."

"I'm sorry to disappoint, but I don't really have an answer. I suppose I'm just... in a reflective kind of mood, combined with feeling contentment in a day well spent."

"I see." A heartbeat or two of silence, and Ja'far said, "Pondering anything in particular?"

Once upon a time Sinbad would have teased, saying it was silly for a demon to be so inquisitive into affairs like this, but years of fighting and working and traveling and breathing and being have changed them both, and Sinbad hadn't really been thinking of anything as such but he chose to say, "You," partly to watch the slight points of ears peeking out from snowy hair dust with red. 

A tail coiled around his ankle, winding carefully up and down, and Sin twitched as soft hair tickled his foot. "Always irrelevant," Ja'far sighed, hand passing across Sinbad's chest to tuck beside his chin. "And irreverent, and incorrigible, and..."

"Irresistible?" Sinbad interjected, then chuckled as Ja'far thrust his shoulder against Sinbad's jaw, grumbling unintelligibly deep in his throat. "Come now, let me have my moment."

"You are having it." Ja'far peered up at him fully for the second time, deadpan. "Don't get too greedy, my king."

Sinbad laughed fully at this, and after a few moment's worth of chuckling Ja'far let out a amused huff, more so (Sin guessed) at Sin then at the situation itself. When Sinbad stopped chuckling, he found that a warm smile had replaced it, and he wondered how in the world he hadn't realized the cause of that particular smile years before. They reclined together in that gentle peace as the candles began to gutter, one by one, shading Ja'far's features. Sinbad curled a finger around a few locks of white hair, and after a while Sinbad realized Ja'far was singing: something soft and lilting, rolling off his tongue in quiet waves of some tongue that sounded familiar, like a voice half-remembered from a childhood memory. In absence of direct conversation and the presence of a lullaby, Sinbad's eyes began to slide shut for longer and longer intervals, the steady warmth above him keeping away any nighttime chill.

He was so at peace that he didn't register that Ja'far had slid away from him until he registered the absence of that heat, and he raised a sleepy arm up in the place Ja'far's body had been occupying even as he forced his eyes open.

Ja'far's profile was silhouetted against the light of the last remaining candle, and as Sinbad pushed himself up his breath caught sleepily at the sight of that lithe figure, eyes directed not at the candle flame but outside, elsewhere (perhaps deep in the landscape of memory), body alert but not tense, still save for the tiniest movements of the body: the gentle expand of the ribcage, the bob of a throat, the flicker of eyelashes and the curl and release of fingers skating against fabric.. Sinbad righted himself fully and watched with half-open eyes, watching the halo of candlelight flicker around him. 

His thumb idly stroked the smooth metal of his ring.

Then Ja'far tipped his head back, emerging from whatever thought had directed his gaze inward, and Sinbad studied with some fascination the play of muscles in his shoulders and back. A quiet sigh and Ja'far bent forward, hand reaching forward to steady himself against the wall, and the candle flashed once and then the room was dark, lit by only the faint light of the stars. It was enough for Sin to see Ja'far turn, one arm stretching across his body, mouth open in a cat-like yawn as he padded back. When he caught Sinbad watching, he paused, a hand on Sinbad's bedpost. "Do you want to sleep there, or would you rather the bed?"

Sinbad merely smiled and gestured, and Ja'far shook his head slightly and turned to crawl onto the bed, his robes rising up around scarred legs as he turned back to sit with legs tucked to the side, watching Sin push off from the couch. A few steps around to the other side and after ridding himself of the last of his clothes Sinbad stretched himself out across the bedsheet, watching Ja'far push back sheets most in favor for the thinnest cover, dark wine red and silky to the touch. Ja'far pressed his face against the swath in his hands for a few heartbeats, his tail curling up around his body, and then his eyes poked over the sheet to glance at Sin. Understanding, Sinbad patted the space beside him and Ja'far laid down as well, draping the sheet across their bodies haphazardly. Sinbad brushed the top of Ja'far's obi with the tips of his fingers, but removed his hand back to the pillow when Ja'far shook his head silently, eyes fixed ahead of him as he wiggled around.

Even when shaped like a human Ja'far was not always so very different from a cat, so Sinbad kept his arms to his sides as Ja'far slid and moved around, pressing palms against the bed and pushing up against Sin until satisfied. It was only then that Sinbad let an arm drape against his dearest person, hand curving comfortably against Ja'far's navel.

Times like this and Sinbad could only marvel, remembering that fierce torrent of nature that he had first faced as a young lad and all the subsequent adventures after. Truly, Yunan had not the slightest idea of the boon he had granted Sinbad that day - although, to be fair, it would take Sinbad years to realize it as well, gradually, like the ocean wearing away at milky cliffs. Those early days of struggle had shaped Ja'far, but Ja'far, too, had been shaped as well - and when they realized it, there was no great revelation, no dramatization, just the consciousness of something that had grown from the tiniest leaf to the foundations of a mighty tree, and while he never was not grateful it was only in this half-awake state that he really pondered whether or not he would be the same without the presence of this one being.

Ja'far turned inward, head tucking neatly underneath Sin's chin, unaware of the thoughts Sinbad was chewing on as he blew the tiniest of breaths against Sin's chest. Before that winding train could turn melancholy Sinbad pressed his face into Ja'far's hair, grasping him more tightly, and at Ja'far's concerned mumble Sinbad whispered into that intimate space curled around the proximity of their bodies.

"I'm with you."

And at the soft intake of breath Sinbad pressed Ja'far all the closer, and when light filtered through closed eyelids Sinbad's eyes shot open and he looked down to see his beloved glowing, silvery runes - like light passing though raindrops - spiraling like smoke over the surface of his body. Ja'far's eyes were wide in the pearly light, cheeks tinted red and emotions like an open book, and Sinbad felt the slightest of tears prick in his eyes as he put all the affection in his being into his smile, and he continued, "If I had to sell my soul, I'm glad it was to you."

As a quivering Ja'far tucked his head into the crook of Sinbad's shoulder, Sinbad felt a single tear roll down his face as he rocked their bodies slowly and thought,

Even if I got broken into two to get where I am today... 

I don't regret it.

And as the waves of sleep lapped over his consciousness, he cast his memory back, recalling the day where their realization of each other had shifted....


	3. Skirmish

Nine Months Earlier 

Sinbad pressed the door behind him hastily, latching it closed with fingers that were only the slightest bit shaky. He pressed his forehead to the cool wooden frame, letting out the breath he'd been holding in unconsciously escape - then he inhaled sharply and spun as a something heavy thudded against the outer wall, shaking dust from the ceiling.

He hesitated, and took no more than a few steps forward before a large dark shape appeared at the balcony, writhing and coiling along the columns. In its haste and confused tangle of body and limbs Sinbad could only make out parts of its form - a taloned foot with dark obsidian claws - the smooth curve of a horn - the tip of a fang protruding from a muzzle - and he caught a deep grumbling, like the far-off herald of a thunderstorm. Hold on, Sinbad thought, a litany, a prayer, Calm down, and he made for the chest in the corner of the room but before he could reach it a column finally buckled and cracked under the stress against it, shoved aside by a forefoot as the beast piled itself in almost faster than Sinbad could follow, filling the room with scaly silver coils. Try as he might, he could not evade this avalanche, slowed as his reflexes were by the burning drain in his face and arm, and he found himself literally picked up and pinned to the wall. 

The beast finally aligned itself properly in his view, scales darkened from their customary moonlight-water shimmer to thunder-heavy rainclouds, and the slitted eyes that glared down at him were the deep green of heavy forest moss, alight with anger. Sinbad winced as a paw came grating down on the floor by his right foot, gouging deep troughs in the stone floor. He knew this had been coming, heard it in the shriek of voices as he'd gotten caught by that curse, but it was hard to meet the eyes of one of his trusted ones when they were filled with so much fury.

"What the fuck was that, Sinbad?" Ja'far snarled, smoke curling up from flared nostrils, voice distorted with emotion (anger, Sinbad's helpful little voice in the back of his mind supplied) as he pressed Sin tighter to the wall. "What the HELL did you think you were doing?"

Sinbad winced at the flash of light that was beginning to seep around the edges of Ja'far's scales, focusing directly on the demon-dragon's eyes before him. "I think if you are questioning me like this, you already have an inkling, don't you?" His voice was much steadier than the turmoil of emotions tossing around him, and he freed his other hand for long enough to press his thumb against the ring on his middle finger. 

A snarl and Ja'far recoiled, freeing Sin enough that he could stagger forward a step, draconic eyes thinning to the merest of slits. When Ja'far was agitated like this his resistance to Sinbad's willpower was the greatest, and in Sinbad's drained state he could do little more than shove the demon back. Yet, even this seemed to have been a wrong choice, as Ja'far's chest belled out in one fluid motion and he howled, the shock of the roar blowing Sinbad's hair and robes around wildly. He could hear alarmed voices by the door, but Ja'far glanced there at the same time he did and with a snick a watery field of runes appeared over the door, effectively muting any outside presence. 

Sinbad felt his own eyes narrow and drew himself up, frowning. "Ja'far. Why are you so upset?"

"Upset?" Ja'far laughed, derisive, but there was a panicky undertone layered underneath, followed by something... else. "Oh, what reason would I have to be upset!? Keep this up and I'll be home in no time." At the last word Ja'far swung his head to the side, fluid, but his leathery ears were pinned tight to the sides of his head.

"Is that it?" Sinbad edged a step to the right, in the direction Ja'far had turned, partly eying the door but most intently focused on the demon in front of him. The dragon form appeared in the worst of battles and the most dangerous of times, and if Ja'far was like this he could so easily get out of control. He could feel a couple of his metal vessels warm beneath him, indistinct voices poking at the back of his mind in concern and distress, but Sinbad resisted the urge to place his hand on the hilt of his sword. By the terms of their contract Ja'far couldn't directly attack him with the intent to cause harm, but Sin intuitively felt that this was about something different, and even that slightest movement of that nature would be a breach of trust.

"You - you - I am fucking tired," and Ja'far smashed a coil against the wall - "Of you pulling shitty stunts like this -" a vase (miraculously untouched before now) went flying into the wall - "How the fuck do you intend to fulfill that stupid dream of yours if you are dead?" The room shook as Ja'far's head disappeared from view, hidden by coils.

"So you are displeased that I got hurt?" Sinbad raised a hand to his face, pressing fingers delicately to the taint of the curse as he took another cautious step forward. "I can't dodge everything, you know -"

"That's a shit excuse and we both know it, King Sinbad." Sinbad winced at the use of his full title - yes, there went the last bit of doubt (not that any really remained) of how infuriated Ja'far was. "I know you could have dodged it. We both do."

"Alright, alright." Sinbad dredged forth a sigh. "Yes, I let myself get hit," (a shudder passed through the length of Ja'far's body), "But it's necessary. Those kids will be even more determined to go conquer that dungeon now, and we are going to need every hand on deck and power we can scrounge up. You know that."

"So you have to manipulate foreign dignitaries and mere hatchlings..." 

Sinbad knew Ja'far was inordinately fond of Aladdin, Morgiana, and Alibaba, and he pressed his lips together in order to prevent the argument of yes, but they are not helpless either, they are not unaware of the trials to say, "I believe it was you who told me all those years ago that my hands were already dirty, that I could not be naive and save everyone with my own two hands?"

"That is NOT the point!" Ja'far's paws landed on either side in front of him, eyes now filled with frustration. "Back then you'd try to redeem even a demon like me! But there are lines that you just shouldn't cross, O king, but sacrificing yourself over fragile gambits will get you nowhere - it didn't then, and it will not now."

"I-" Sinbad threw his hands up, feeling defensive enough that his own temper was beginning to rise. "Fuck, Ja'far, what did you want me to do? Ironic for a demon to be lecturing me, of all things. And I can hold off the worse effects until they come back - and I am confident, without a doubt, that they will be successful."

"You appointed this demon as your foremost advisor, fool - what does that say about your own morals?! And no, if they decided to go to the dungeons themselves, of their own will, then I cannot stop that." He snarled, shifting his body back and forth. "But I did not mean for your morals to disintegrate - keep your human values, that conviction was always a strong point! And maybe, just maybe, you should consider that perhaps the ones that find you and your well-being important do not want you to get hurt needlessly!"

Sinbad took a few steps forward, anger making him belligerent in spite of the needles crawling across his face and arm. "I am a king - and a truly poor king I would be if I cowered behind a shield my whole life! I have responsibility - and you, of all," he could feel his voice getting louder, pent-up feelings flowing forth, "Should know that to become a king distant from his subjects would be one of the worse fates I could experience!" He pressed forward, Ja'far stepping back as he hissed, eyes flinty and wild, uncoiling and swirling around him in a half-parody of a dance. "I cannot save everyone. Fine. But I am human, and if you've learned anything over the past years, demon, you should know that a human, when emotions are involved, is the strongest of all!"

Ja'far stepped back, head bent in toward his chest, rigid, feral, and tips of his form began to blur, sloughing off into oily sludge - so caught up in emotion, Sinbad realized, that he was having trouble holding on to his corporeal form. Suddenly, a slam of mental force, like a heat wave, struck Sin and he gasped - and Ja'far was writhing against the pressure of control that Sinbad hadn't realized he was exerting. He dug his fingernails into his palms, thinking, I am sorry, Ja'far, and then pressed the contract ring to his heart. There were extra bindings in the corner chest that he had originally stepped toward, but in these later years by unspoken agreement Sinbad had never used them and Ja'far never pushed to the point they were needed - but right now Ja'far, pinned and straining under magical bindings enforced by willpower, was between the two, so Sinbad had no choice but to lock his movements with the one means of extra force he had available.

Ja'far buckled and sank down on front legs, head shaking as he tried to keep it upright. He rolled an eye at Sin and Sinbad almost slipped, shocked by what he saw there - not rage or pain but fear and something unintelligible, sad and dark, but then those green eyes, spirals of runes and irises inside of irises, were hidden behind heavy eyelids as smoke began to froth around the dragon, spine jerking and limbs cracking.

It was like a mental game of tug-of-war, but Sinbad's grasp - unnerved by that pleading in those dark eyes - began to feel slippery as Ja'far didn't push but let go, feeding control back to Sinbad faster than he could process. The ring against his skin cooled then began to pulse, red threads criss-crossing its surface faster and faster, and the dragon reared back, compacting in on itself.

"S-Sin," Ja'far growled, and a plume of feathers, inky and metallic, hovered in the air, "You f-fool," scales fading into skin, spots of light dimming into dusty freckles and bands of crimson light winding around him and Sinbad felt a will straining at him even as he tried to impose him into one spot, "If you are resolved to create your stupid, stupid dream - You are far too young to die -"

And there was a glassy shatter as the red threads of binding gave way across the room and around the ring, and a Ja'far crowned with shadows and trailing splinters of darkness from his hands shot at him, roaring, "And you NEVER COULD CONTROL ME!"

Sinbad crossed his arms in front of his torso just in time to take the blunt of the attack as shadows threw him back, back colliding into the wall, and he shook his head and looked up – 

\- In time to see Ja'far dashing at him, eyes wild, arm pulled back in preparation to strike –

\- Sinbad shut his eyes tight –

\- Maybe I deserved this –

\- But there was no impact.

After a few more seconds after which if Ja'far was going to strike, he probably would have, Sinbad let his eyes open a crack - and gulped as he saw Ja'far's claws an inch from his throat, tendrils curling down around his arm. Ja'far had frozen of his own accord, head lowered and eyes hidden behind pale hair, and the only movement he made was the rise and fall of his chest and the swishing lash of his tail.

Sinbad stared, mouth open - but before he could voice the thought ringing through his mind (why?) Ja'far lowered his hand and stepped back, eyes still hidden but lips pressed into a thin line. "... I can't."

"You - what?" Sinbad raised a hand to his throat, rubbing gingerly - but no, Ja'far hadn't left a mark on him. 

"... I can't. I can't do it." Ja'far finally looked up at Sinbad with eyes that were grey once more, wide with pain and anguish. "I can't kill you." Sinbad pushed himself up, finding he could move again and realizing that while he still could feel the band that connected him he could no longer push his will through it (Ja'far had shattered part of the seal?). He reached out, fingers grasping air as Ja'far sank onto a knee, robes billowing out around him as he covered his face. "Why... Why can't I kill you?"

I'm a demon. I don't feel as humans do. The thought seemed to hang heavy around them. 

Sinbad looked down at Ja'far, shame and concern slowly starting to replace the anger that had thrummed minutes before. "You... broke the seal."

"... Yes." Ja'far curled his tail around his body. "I was so infuriated... If that wasn't a curse, if could have killed you. It still might kill you anyway. And I thought, why couldn't you see that? You have generals, you have djinns, you have a goddamn demon." He held up his hands, misty shards of darkness spilling out of them. "I wanted to smack some sense into your thick skull, that - that - if you die, then you dragged me all this damn way for nothing. You dragged a lot of people into this. Yes, you could die today, or tomorrow. Maybe at the hands of another, by disease, by my own tainted hands." Ja'far shook his head, voice growing weaker. "But... I don't want to see you die from some insensible reason. Your damn contract was over that, but I... I couldn't do it. Even when the seal was gone, I looked at you and..." Ja'far's voice trailed off and he held a sleeve to his face, and Sinbad felt his heart skip a beat as he realized that the other was... crying.

Because... of me?

"Ja'far," he began, then hesitated as he looked down at the slumped form before him - and for a moment, as though looking into the past, he saw the Ja'far he first met, proud and unbroken and only begrudgingly acknowledging Sinbad's power. He saw the old juxtaposed over the current, saw the thousands of tiny links in the chain of shared events over the years. He saw Ja'far's derision turn to genuine advice, ordered protection turn into moves ushered without his command. Sinbad saw a Ja'far standing at the prow of their ship with an unfurled map before him back in their merchant days as they caught the last tide of the day, saying huh, I didn't think you would come tonight with the smallest of smirks on his face as Sinbad bent over, protesting why was the ship moving out of the dock without me, if not for my djinn I would have had to swim, damn you (and yet somehow Ja'far had known Sin was in a hurry that day). Sinbad saw a Ja'far who started appearing, not in his old clothes, but in the Sindrian robes of his own accord - a million little glances of concern and wariness, a thousand days of falling asleep with the demon watching over him, and when had Ja'far started protecting him on his own, and how blind was Sinbad to have missed it for so long?

What did he say in the face of the realization that was beginning to rumble over him?

"I... Ja'far you..." Eloquent, Sin thought to himself, but before he could push his tangled tongue into proper speech Ja'far drew a long sleeve over his face and stood up, out of Sinbad's reach, tail disappearing under his robes. With a snap of his claws, the field pulsing over the door grew bright for an instant, and disappeared - and in the next moment the door burst open, figures falling in over each other in a pile. Sinbad looked over to see Sharrkan and Spartos collapsed on the floor with Yamu clinging to the frame, some soldiers and Hinahoho looking over the top in concern.

"Is everything alright, Sinbad?" Sharrkan staggered up, robes askew. "What was that crash?"

"We couldn't get in, so we were worried," Yamu pitched in, looking over them critically. Sinbad snuck a glance over at Ja'far but Ja'far's face was blank, thoughts hidden behind walls of decorum, hands tucked neatly in front of his body. 

Perceiving that his advisor wasn't about to offer any excuses, Sinbad hastily waved his hands. "It's fine, guys, Ja'far just brought me some news post-haste." Aware that there were soldiers and, by now, some servants mingling in the hallway, he said, "I will give you guys the news later," while subtly pointing down with the two fingers of his right hand as his left gestured - the code between generals and king that everything is fine.

Grumblings and many reassurances later they were able to escape the crowd, and Sinbad hurried after Ja'far has the other bid farewell to a puzzled-looking Yamu and slipped away down a side passage. Ja'far had to know Sinbad was following him, but made no sign save to walk faster - no sign, that is, until Sinbad finally caught up as the hallway turned and grabbed his wrist. 

His advisor froze, not looking at Sin. "Yes, my king, was there something you needed me to do?" Sinbad caught the slightest stirring of robes as the edge of his tail brushed the floor. Nervousness?

"Don't play dumb with me, Ja'far." Sinbad kept his voice soft, thumb sliding over the thin knob of Ja'far's wrist. "I'm not going to let you just up and disappear after that reveal."

"What - oh, does the seal bother you? Yamu could probably work one in place of Yunan, if you are that concerned. Don't worry, I am not planning on taking advantage of it. Like I said -" Here Ja'far's voice quavered, just the slightest bit - "I can't hurt you."

"That's... what I wanted to talk to you about." Sinbad looked at the side of Ja'far's face, wishing the other would turn and actually look at him. "Why..." He swallowed. "When did you..." Start caring so much? Saying that would be an asshole move. Instead, he clumsily finished with, "Why don't you want to hurt me?"

Ja'far moved his head just the slightest bit. "... I cannot give you an exact reason, Sin." His voice was tired. "You don't think of demons sinning, because most people associate the two in integral manners. But somewhere along the lines, I started crossing lines I shouldn't have. I should want to go home. I do. I miss it, its chaos, being free of earthly chains." He held up a hand, flexing the fingers. "Mortal forms are so... restricting. That's why demons shape-shift, you know. It holds the ache of being materialized at bay. But somewhere along the line, I stopped resenting it. I stopped fighting for a way back and started investing thought in your world instead."

Ja'far pulled his arm and Sinbad let his fingers slip away, watching as Ja'far turned sideways, revealing his figure in profile - thin and pale, freckles smattering his nose and arms hugging his chest, eyes far away. "You pulled me in to your world, and I stopped struggling. You are a hard human to resist, do you know that?" He gave a weak laugh. "Damn it, I wasn't supposed to care about your stupid, temporary dreams. But you poured so much of yourself - your personality, your hopes, your dreams - into the bonds that controlled me, and tasting that... is as bittersweet of a draught I've willingly drained." 

A moment of silence and the two stood together, separated by a foot of empty space, Sinbad quietly waiting for Ja'far to finish. Finally, the demon turned to look at him fully, expression something between pained, afraid, and... wanting, if Sinbad could label it. "I don't know what to make of this, Sinbad. You made me experience emotions I never was meant to. Make of it what you will, how you will, but I decided to see out your wish of my own volition... But don't worry. I will comport myself as I did before, but now... you know where my loyalty lies."

Sinbad exhaled. "You are... I don't know how to answer, in the face of that. But... You are my trusted advisor. I think..." He took the slightest of steps forward. "Somewhere I began trusting you just the same. So this isn't... one sided, as much so as you might think. But... thank you, Ja'far." Grey eyes widened slightly in shock. "It is good to hear that you do genuinely trust me. And that.. it makes me happy."

Sin had only seen Ja'far flustered a handful of times, and the flush that spread across his cheeks this time was... more than a little adorable, Sin had to admit to himself. Ja'far turned back but paused, hands fiddling in front of him.

In the short heartbeat of time before Ja'far could decide the conversation was over and move away, Sinbad (and his big mouth) decided to push forward once more. "So, if you no longer hate me, what do you feel about me?"

Ja'far paused, looking over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. Sin, brain catching up with his mouth, reddened slightly but maintained a serious expression, wanting to see how Ja'far responded. "How I feel?" Sinbad nodded, determined not to speak. "How I feel..." Ja'far looked across Sinbad's shoulder. "Well, I can't really tell you, but I think I can show you. But unless..." He shook his head. "Never mind that. But you do not have to respond."

What?

"Okay," Sin managed, "So wha-" His voice died as Ja'far stepped forward in a swift moment and stood on his tiptoes, looking Sin directly in the face – 

\- and soft lips pressed against the side of his cheek for a second before Ja'far stepped back with a flutter of steps, spinning and setting off hastily down the corridor.

Sinbad stood frozen in shock, hand reaching reflectively up to where Ja'far had pecked his cheek. Ja'far... he...? The demon was almost toward the next bend when Sinbad pulled himself back together. "Ja'far!" He called, and Ja'far halted, looking back over his shoulder, and even from this distance Sin could see nervousness and embarrassment in his expression. 

How can I match that...? Suddenly, a spark of inspiration leapt to his mind, and he raised his hand, sliding the ring off his third finger. He held it up so that they both could see the silver band - Ja'far's face was filled with puzzlement - and with one fluid motion he pressed the ring onto his fourth finger and pressed his own lips to the cool surface, letting a genuine smile poke at the corner of his lips. 

A rustle of movement and Ja'far fled down the hallway, but before he was lost from sight Sinbad was sure he saw the slightest of smiles curving Ja'far's lips.


	4. Transfiguration

Within A Year of the Summoning

"Geez, I'm cold," Sinbad moaned, clumsily pushing the door behind him shut with his shoulder as he rubbed his arms. "I mean, it's not so bad when you're out running around and staying active. But stop for a minute, and whew!"

"Ironic coming from someone skipping around with his arms bare," sniffed the demon who had slunk in after him, tail brushing Sin's leg before padding cautiously into the room, panning his head side to side. "I really can't help you if you were expecting anything else after coming this far north."

"Look at you - you bundled up too!" Ja'far flicked his tail but otherwise ignored him. They had agreed that a cat would be Ja'far's usual guise around people they knew (for now, since Sinbad wasn't sure how to properly reveal hey, I have a somewhat-friendly demon with me, don't be nervous, he's totally under control! without Ja'far trying to weasel his way around the contract somehow), but shortly after they had drifted into colder latitudes Ja'far had morphed into a long-haired fluffy cat, pale grey with jags of darker-colored stripes across his back. "And I mean - they gave me these clothes and walk around like this themselves, it'd be rude to ask for anything more at this point." Sinbad rubbed the back of his head as he saw his pack sitting in the far end of the room. "Couldn't you use fire magic or something to warm me up?"

"If you desire it, Sinbad, I will gladly set you on fire," Ja'far supplied, leaping on top of the table. His tail flicked as he sat down near the edge, looking across the discarded papers and unlit lanterns. 

Sin heaved forth a sigh as he crouched down beside his pack, opening up the side pouch to rummage through. "On second thought, I'll pass." He brought up his compass, cursed quietly, the stuck his hand back inside. "I gotta say, though, I like these people. They are all very friendly, even if I feel tiny even next to the kids... Oh, man, and these clothes are warmer than you'd think, you know? It's really only my arms and face that are frozen." 

There was a soft whistling sound and Sinbad turned around, eyebrows raised - then had to sit back and stare for a second at his demon. Ja'far had pushed a lamp in front of him and lit the wick so that long shadows hid his face, save for his eyes that glowed slightly under mostly shut lids - mysterious and ridiculous in equal measure when the noise of purring reached Sin's ears.

"I..." He turned back, grateful at the least for the light, theatrics notwithstanding. "You know, I'm going to keep my mouth shut on this one." With a sound of triumph he finally pulled a leather-bound notebook out of his bag, snapping the side shut again. 

"May I transform?" Sinbad shot Ja'far a look as he joined him at the table, pulling out a stool so he could sit and prop the paper against his knee as he wrote. The demon stretched a paw across the table, claws unsheathing from furry paws and angling towards Sin's face. "I'm bored, stupid human, let me do something fun. No magic, no transformation..."

"Plenty of tricks, though," Sin observed around the pencil in his mouth, flicking through the pages to find where he'd left off. "Keep digging your claws into me at bad moments and I'll order you to transform into a camel." Finding his page, he rolled the charcoal pencil in his hand, then eyed Ja'far for a second. "Do you really want to transform that badly?"

Grey eyes met and studied his. "I would appreciate it, yes."

I'm glad I got him to stop calling me master, that was a bit creepy. All his tricks today were for the most part in private, and he's been almost... passive the past couple days. Well, it should be alright for a bit - no one should be coming in anytime soon, and I sincerely do want to get him to like me. Sinbad let his eyes drift back down. "As long as it isn't inherently destructive and you take care if someone were to come in, then that's fine. Just don't bother me while I write, okay?" 

Ja'far didn't reply but Sin heard the soft whump of his feet hitting the floor off to the right. Sinbad wrote the date and a few preliminary words, trying to cast his mind over the events of the day so he could faithfully transcribe them, but under his lashes he somehow couldn't help but watch the demon pace around, wondering what form he would take. 

It would seem Ja'far wasn't sure either, as though he had been expecting Sin to refuse. (For some reason, this thought stung in the back of his mind.) He strode the length of the room back, ears twitching, then halfway through his second lap he expanded, becoming a black star-speckled panther many times the feline form's size. Another two steps and his spine compacted and his dimensions narrowed, muzzle becoming sleek and limbs thinning until a greyhound strode where the cat had. Mist rose around his feet and engulfed his body, twisting and Sin bit down hard on his tongue as a plumed serpent reared its head out of the smoke, curving dark wings beating the remains away with one flap. The demon stilled, head tilting, then it arched backwards and collapsed onto itself, a human form taking its place. 

Ja'far looked now as he usually did, save for his hair - now, in place of the short, scruffy haircut of before his hair was long, cascading down his back and nearly dragging along the floor at its longest. The smallest tip of his tongue peaked out of his lips as he arched his arms above his head before brushing long strands aside. Sinbad hastily looked down before he was caught staring, feeling oddly as though he'd almost been caught gaping at something private. He wrote down a few more lines, mind wandering as he listened to the soft cadence of feet across the floor, and when shook his head (and mind) back into focus he looked down in surprise to realize he'd been idly sketching the curve of the serpent that had risen twice his height yet curled back into itself without a second glance. 

Sinbad stared at his work, fingers lightly tracing thin pencil marks, before his cheeks reddened and he resolutely pressed forward with his writing, blocking out any other sounds. He always tried to write as much as possible (when possible) at the end of the day, and he'd found that usually it was a relaxing venture, giving him time to set emotions in check and repose for the next day. By the time he finished the candle was guttering, casting fitful light across the messy table, and he rubbed his sore fingers over his neck before pushing up and away from the table, tucking the pencil next to the notebook's spine as he looked around for his subordinate.

Ja'far was sitting back against the wall, a pallet spread open between him and Sin's pack. Ja'far's hair was twisted over his chest in a messy plait - Sinbad realized that must have been what he was doing while Sin himself was engaged in writing. (Somehow, imagining Ja'far sitting crosslegged, threading his hair down his back seemed oddly... intimate, and he pushed away the thought before he could dwell and it showed on his face.) As Sinbad stepped toward him Ja'far looked up, eyes soft and distant. He gazed thoughtfully at Sinbad for a second, then gestured beside him. "Someone left bedding for you, so I took the liberty of setting it out."

"Ah... Well, thank you." Sinbad blinked (probably like a fool) for a second or two, then hunkered down so he could stow his journal back in the pack. His stiff hands slowly worked around the clasps, double-checking that everything was secure and in its place. Finally, satisfied, he slapped a hand on top of it, eying the spread Ja'far had set out. It was a cozy-looking setup, the sheets dyed a deep indigo with small - what Sinbad guessed were constellations embroidered down one side. He reached out to smooth his hand down over the top of the fabric, finding it soft and cool to the touch. Knowing that by now it was definitely very late, he sat back on the floor, reaching around to pull his shoes off and set them next to the bag.

When Sin was done he paused, staring across the length of the bed at Ja'far. The demon was sitting slumped against the wall, head propped against it and eyes closed, tail curled neatly across his (bare, Sinbad noticed with a shiver) feet. Ja'far must have caught hint of Sin's look, though, for he opened his eyes, cocking his head sideways in a wordless question.

Sinbad waved his hand, clumsily rising to his feet and padding over to the table so he could blow out the fitful candle light. In the dark, he made his way back by memory, kneeling down so that he could push back the blanket. Pausing before he made to swing his legs under the covers, he said, "Ja'far, keep watch, alright? Only wake me up if it's urgent or if someone's about to die."

A soft sigh greeted this order. Then: "As you wish." Sinbad couldn't quite see him, but he could sense the demon sitting more fully upright, watching the room with half-shut eyelids. Comforting, in its way - even though he did genuinely like his hosts, after the past months it was could to have a failsafe. Sinbad gave a soft hum and flopped into the pallet.

Then he jumped right back out with a yelp. "Ja'far!"

"Yes?" Came the mild voice from the darkness.

"Care to tell me why you put ice chucks in my bed?!"

A soft chuckle. "Stay sharp, Sinbad." Unfortunately, Sinbad could practically see the demon grinning toothily at his own cunning.

"Damn you." Sinbad wrapped his arms around his body, shivering. "And after I let you do your thing -"  
"That was you, not me."

You piece of - Sinbad pushed that aside. He wanted to make friends with the demon, right, he had to overcome things like this. He blew out that spark of annoyance in a sigh. "Just - could you please remove it? And dry my bed?"

Silence. Then, before Sinbad could speak or lash a spark across their contract-bonds, Ja'far made a little rumble, half chuckle, half growl. "I suppose." A sharp clicking echoed around the room. "There."

Sinbad reached out and cautiously patted the area before him, and was gratified to feel that the bed was no longer cold and wet. He climbed under the sheets (carefully, this time) and burrowed into the sheets. He was cold, but he should warm up soon, at least. After a pause, as he listened to the sharp whistle of the wind around the eves of the house, he murmured, "Thank you, Ja'far. Goodnight."

"... Goodnight." Sinbad tucked his limbs close to his body, trying to conserve heat. Fortunately, he was tired enough that his eyes soon started drooping, and just as sleep was about to overtake his body it seemed that he heard another click and was surrounded by warmth, like someone had lit a fireplace next to his bed. So warm... and comfy...

He must have fallen into a deep sleep, for he woke suddenly, with a start. Blinking his eyes heavily (with the sense that several hours had to have passed, he felt more refreshed) before he realized that a heavy weight was pressing against his legs and chest. He must have opened his mouth to yell, but suddenly a heavy paw landed against his face. "Hst!"

Ja'far?

Sinbad shook his head free, wishing that he could see more. "What are you doing?" He whispered fiercely, both bewildered and disgruntled at being woken in such a manner. He freed a hand and reached over the blanket, only to encounter soft fur.

"Shh. I believe you asked me to wake you if something happened, which I am doing," Ja'far hissed back, indistinct except for a shapeless blob above Sin. "Is this the kind of gratitude I get?"

Sinbad blinked rapidly. "No, I - what's going on?" he breathed back, now much more conscious. 

"Stay still. With your permission, I will cast a spell so your puny eyes can see, but listen to me. There are two people on top of the roof. They radiate ill-intent like a putrid corpse."

Assassins, here? "Are they from the village, can you tell?" Whispered Sinbad, half-wishing he had kept a blade at closer hand... no, but that could be seen as discourtesy as well. "And you have my permission. Let me see, Ja'far."

"I cannot be sure, but I don't think so." A lower rumble, one that Sinbad could not make out and suddenly Sin's eyes stung, but after holding them shut to starbursts for a couple of seconds and opened his eyes to see a silver-ruffed snow leopard lying on top of him, dark spots like freckles tumbling down its nose. No wonder his legs ached. 

"Is there a reason you woke me up like this?" He whispered, casting his eyes around the room. Nothing seemed out of place, as far as he could tell. 

"I... I think they sense my presence. I'm not sure. But I wanted to ensure you wouldn't yell - " Ja'far cut off mid-sentence, eyes suddenly flashing up to a spot on the ceiling toward the far wall. Sinbad remained frozen, straining with all his might, and he heard it too - soft whump whump sounds like someone stepping a floor above them. Had he not been on guard, he wouldn't have heard them. 

"Let me move," Sinbad breathed, palms itching. Ja'far got to his feet but remained above Sinbad, feet heavy on either side and eyes still pinned toward the ceiling. Sinbad twisted and reached for his bag, groping for the biggest pocket, and pulled out the skinning knife he usually reserved for cooking, not fighting. His sword, he lamented, was at the far side of the room - and if this wasn't a lesson in preparation, but who on earth would be desperate enough to send assassins after him? 

The softest of rustling, then silence. Sinbad elbowed Ja'far in the chest - nothing hard, just a nudge - and Ja'far backed up, placing each paw carefully. Moving as quietly as possible, Sinbad rotated his body, kneeling with one hand on the ground and the blade poised in front of him, glancing carefully from side to side. His own breathing seemed to echo, extra-loud in his ears. Briefly, he considered yelling for help - surely someone wasn't too far away - but, then again, most everyone within hearing distance was probably asleep, and who was to say whether these assassins wouldn't fight of flee - and Sinbad shuddered to think of what could happen if, gods forbid, a kid heard. He could feel Ja'far crouching down, muscles bunching - although he couldn't see it, it could almost sense the tiniest twitch of his tail. 

"Ja'far," he blended the words into his breathing, straining into preparation, "Do your best to immobilize, not kill." He knew full well what the demon's first inclination would be, judging from past experience. "I would like to know who would send trained killers after me." 

One heartbeat.

Two.

Then there was a crack above their heads and they both simultaneously leapt forward, Sinbad ducking into a somersault and bracing his weight with a hand against the floor as he spun even as Ja'far twisted his body in midair to land several feet away. They had moved just in time - a heavy weight rammed into where Sin's body had been, cracking the floorboards. A curse and Ja'far yowled, barreling past Sinbad in one swift movement to hurl his weight at the mid-sized figure who had shattered the small window to his right, blades flashing in the dim light. 

Sinbad registered all this peripherally as a larger figure loomed forward, charging at him. He had a brief moment to breathe and they were on him and he ducked and dodged huge fists, whistling past his head. He jumped back once, twice, and then there was a screech from the other end and Sinbad and his opponent both hesitated by instinct, turning toward the sound - and Sinbad gasped as plant roots suddenly snaked past his vision, wrapping and clutching at their enemies. 

Sinbad didn't even stop to think - as a large root swept past his shoulder, ramming into the other figure he ducked and ran toward the door, seeking not escape but the sword propped against it. A skinning knife, after all, wouldn't work for what he was planning - and then he jerked back heavily, mid-run, as a blade flashed past his torso to embed itself in the wall. The momentum caused him to skid and he slid heavily across the floor for a moment, scrabbling for balance and burning his palms. 

Loud creaking noises behind him and he turned his head, even while in the midst of scrambling over roots the thickness of his legs. Dully, he could see a figure with its arms upraised in the center, trembling with concentration even as the shapeless form across from it lashed out, striking multiple times with a wooden thwack each time. Icy fear and adrenaline shocked through Sinbad's system and he bodily vaulted over the last obstacle to the door, scrabbling for the sword hit. The first time he grabbed the blade near the hilt, a sharp pain slicing at his fingers, but at the second swipe the leather-wrapped hilt nestled snuggly into his palm.

Sinbad sucked all the breath he could into his lungs in one gasp, searching deep within him for that nub of power that had appeared deep within Baal's dungeon. He found it and pried into it, magoi thrumming through his body, vibrating across his skin. He bared his teeth then whipped the sword up, imagining the fathomless sky far above them, imagining the churning of clouds and furious storms.

"LIGHTNING!"

And as that power burst forth, for a moment everything was still and he could see everything - the tiniest ridges in the grains of wood beneath his feet, the fluttering of papers smashed off the tables, and the liquidy flow of electricity bursting from his swordpoint to arc away in glowing rivers, forking down many paths in a radius before him. A sharp boom and time resumed, the pulse of lightning flooding through and shaking the room. 

In the aftermath Sinbad stood poised, heart hammering as he peered through the dust. Dimly, the thought that the noise must have woken someone filtered through his head, but it was overshadowed in light of did I get them? And where is Ja'far? 

A shivering whisper seemed to rumble through the room, and suddenly all of the lamps at hadn't been crushed by the melee flickered into life - followed, almost instantaneously, by pounding on the door. "Sinbad! Hey, kid, are you alright?"

Shocked into action, Sinbad yelled back, "Hang on a moment, don't come in!" He plunged toward the center of the room, dodging odd twisting roots, and came face to face with a peculiar sight - the two attackers, pressed motionless to the floor, with an oddly humanlike shape hovering over them. It turned and Sinbad almost bit his tongue as the figure looked at him - a humanoid figure, but with vines trailing down from its head over its body, and (Sin perceived quickly) - with its limbs extending into the root system that had burst through the room. 

Sinbad blinked. "... Ja'far?"

Ja'far stared back, clearly unpleased. "Wake up, Sinbad, have you not heard of a dryad before?" He looked down to glower at the attackers. "What do you want me to do with them, if I can't kill them? They are unconscious - their pulses are weak." 

"Um." Sinbad made a quick gesture. "If they are out, you can let go. And change back, quickly, before they pound the door down." Indeed, the drumming at the door was growing more and more violent.

"Gladly. I hate being a plant - it makes me too sleepy." With that interesting tidbit of information Ja'far seemed to pull back, the roots winding back into his body, compressing into nothing in an instant. He landed lightly on his feet and folded his arms tight against his body, falling forward - but even as Sinbad moved to catch him his body shrunk, condensing into a cat just in time for the door to come crashing in off its hinges.

Feeling sheepish for some inexplicable reason, Sinbad turned to face the people piling into his room, confusion warring with concern on many faces. "Um. I think we have a problem here - what do you guys think I should do?"


	5. Reflection

_Years Later (The Day Before the Coronation of King Sinbad)_

Tonight, the island was aglow with thousands of lights.  The citizens of the newly created nation were lighting fires and magical candles down by the lapping ocean waves, letting them drift away like tiny stars until the clear night sky and the sea mirrored each other perfectly.  Sinbad, standing at the steps of the recently-completely palace, tipped his head back and let the gentle sea breeze caress his face.  For the first time in days, his limbs felt light and his mind was clear.  It was both a relief and a thrill, Sinbad thought, to be at the culmination of years of work.

It was with a smile that he turned his back on the lights only partially visible from his viewpoint.  Sinbad had been out amongst his people since the morning, working all over the island - helping, with his own two hands, the final touches on a long, long dream.  Smiles and sweat and many hours of hard work later, and he had been the first to release a lantern into the warm waves... yet, although the festivities were picking up now that the sun had dipped beneath the horizon, for the first time in a while Sinbad decided to forgo the party early.  Tomorrow, after all, he would be a king... and somehow he wanted time to reflect, before he would metamorphosize into something entirely new.

He entered the open hallways of the palace, linking his hands behind his back as he wandered.  He let his gaze and path travel freely, pausing beside a column to carefully toe off his shoes - first the left, then the right.  Barefoot, he moved towards the stairs, paying special attention to the ground beneath his feet and the curl and swish of fabric around his body.  Before he mounted the stairs, he paused - then, with the barest fraction of hesitation, lifted off most of his necklaces and unclasped his armbands, stowing them safely in the nearest vase.  He kept his sword and the ring of demon command on alone; in any case, those two would be enough for any troublesome situation, and he honestly expected nothing tonight - not tonight, in this breath before the plunge. 

Trouble, as it surely would come, could wait.

Speaking of demons, he realized as he reached the next floor, it seemed like Ja'far was the _only_ person whom he hadn't seen in a while.  He cast his mind back, lightly touching the events of the day... but no, he hadn't seen Ja'far since yesterday afternoon.  Ja'far sometimes went and did his own things, nowadays, now that Sinbad had been able to entrust him with a little more freedom... but always, he'd come back.

Sinbad paused and looked out the window, brushing his hand against stone still faintly warm from the intense sunlight of the day, but his view was still obscured partially by the tallest of buildings.  Here, in the palace, the only light was that of the full moon and the occasional torchlight - but otherwise he hadn't met a single other soul in the building.  He scratched his fingernails against a smooth arch, tracing idly, then pushed away with a soft breath.  This time, he cast his mind back, recalling his childhood in his fishing village and his earliest of wandering days, letting these memories - the roots of the past - wash to the forefront of his consciousness. 

Lost in the past, feeling the burn of past hurts and seeing the faces of departed friends and foes, he wandered freely, letting his feet mark a steady rhythm against the floor.  For long minutes he drifted along, lost in an esoteric flow of recollection... and after a moment even the memories faded and he drifted, not thinking but in a moment of nothing and _everything_ , dwelling within a circle whose center was everywhere and whose expanse was infinity...

He turned by instinct, not by thought, but he slowly came back to himself as he caught a single voice, echoing slightly through the hallways.  Sinbad gravitated slowly in a semicircle, reorienting himself - he was in a different wing of the palace, now, with open rooms to both sides.  If he concentrated, he thought he could make out the distant sound of waves and people cheering and singing... but the voice ghosting down the corridor was different, closer.  Intrigued, he let his hands drop back down to his sides and set off purposefully, walking light as a shadow.

He recognized neither voice nor words, but the emotion embedded within stirred with his heart - like a lullaby, yet filled with a pain that made his heart ache, even with the happy weight of events as a safeguard.  No other music - no harp, nor flute - accompanied it; it was just a single melody, a nightingale's voice in human speech.  Sin swallowed back the lump that suddenly stuck in this throat, pausing as he reached the last door in the corridor... the only door that was pulled shut, and the last barrier between him and the singing.  His hand hovered out, poised over the door - and then Sinbad curled his fingers in, wondering if it was right to intrude in the midst of such an intimate, aching lament.  Bidden by some unvoiced message, he glanced up - and as his eyes settled over the laurels caved with exquisite detail over the border of the door, he swallowed and braced his arms forward against the wood.

The door swung open silently.

Sinbad stepped over the threshold, and his hand dropped as he took in the interior.  It was a wide room, one meant for multiple purposes - a conference room, perhaps, but undecorated yet save for some covered benches to either side.  The farthest wall was not  a wall at all, but extended to a balcony, over which he could finally see the lights dotting the beach in their entirely.  The room was awash in pale moonlight, broken only by steady interlude of columns, creating almost rhythmic bars slotted against the floor.  And in the middle of the room pivoted his mystery singer, oblivious to his presence - a figure clad in a long, flowing garment, one of the darkest slate-blue silk in a fashion Sin couldn't recognize but felt he should, embroidered with ruffles at the end of long, flowing sleeves and open to expose curved, pale shoulders.  White ribbons trailed the floor from the waist, and as they turned Sinbad caught his breath - for even if that snowy hair was longer than he'd lately seen it, braided in a curve across one shoulder, that face was one he'd known for years.  _Ja'far...?_

He must have spoken out loud, for Ja'far (if Ja'far it was) paused in his spinning, soft song dying from his lips as his arms lowered... then he turned fully to face Sin, linking thin fingers together and raising his head in a proud gesture.  Sinbad could not see his eyes clearly, although he could see the claws tipping the edges of his hands.  "Welcome, King of Sindria."

"Not yet," he murmurs, as though ghosting through a dream.  "I'm not the king yet.  Not til tomorrow."  Somehow, it seemed vital to remind himself of these words.  He rotated his hand in front of him, flexing his fingers in an effort to dispel the solemn atmosphere, then took another step inside (wondering if that was okay, if Ja'far had somehow claimed this room and this was _rude_ and should he ask permission, what were the rules of etiquette on a night like this?).  He didn't know if it was a good move, but he guessed that it wasn't ill when Ja'far didn't scowl or cross his arms... although, really, Ja'far hadn't done _anything_ in response.  Standing there with the moonlight and open air to his back, he seemed... statuesque, the antithesis to organic movement, and the idle part of Sin wonders what Ja'far's skin would feel like if he would walk forward and take his hand.

He took another step, but this time he moved to the side, hand coming up to ruffle his bangs awkwardly.  Sin can see the slight pan of Ja'far's head, watching him, and then his advisor finally sighed and turned away, dropping his hands to hang loosely by his sides.  "Is there something you require, Sinbad?"

"No," Sinbad said immediately, and then offered - a paltry aside compared to the brevity of his first reply - "I haven't seen you all day."  He watched a graceful arm move up to curl around the opposite elbow, a sketch in asymmetry.  The silence was awkward almost to the point of being painful so he plowed onward after many seconds, asking, tentative, "This... This is probably a strange question, but this... isn't a dream, right?"  Not that he'd dreamed about his demon in a dress before, but weirder things had happened, and this air of unearthliness curled cold tendrils along his spine.

Ja'far tilted his head to the side and finally Sinbad could see a single eye, glittering at him in the color-leeching light.  They regarded each other for a second, and then that eye was hidden again.  "... No.  This is real."

"Well..." Sinbad stepped back, placing his back to the wall, "What have you been up to all day?  Everyone was so busy, I'm glad everything is coming together, though... I think all the delegates are going to arrive in time, so that's a relief.  Did you release a lantern?  I'm surprised you aren't down there either - I mean, I'm not but I _was_ , I just wanted a breather and some time to think, but I'm sure you could have had fun just watching it you wanted -"

"Sinbad," Ja'far finally cut across Sinbad's rambling, like brushing away cobwebs, and Sinbad paused mid-word, alert.  Ja'far opened his mouth, closed it again, then took a few steps forward toward the balconies, graceful in a way that made Sin fully see the feline aspect of him in play.  "Do you think your actions through?"

"I," Sin began, then paused, because this obviously wasn't so much light conversation as it was a _test_ , and Ja'far always seemed to be setting him those, but if there was a _test_ tonight, well, he wanted this night to be filled with good omens.  "I mean - I would like to say yes.  If you are talking like matters of business and stuff, then yeah, I do, I _have_ to, you have to think about who's selling and the geographics and sociology of potential buyers, what kind of markets it would succeed in, you know, weighing the risks and that.  And in fighting, sometimes you have to go with your gut but sometimes it's all about being a step or two ahead of your opponent, especially when talking bigger scales of battle... I mean, back in the day  I just kind of stumbled into muck sometimes, I admit, but I.. I do try."  He took his eyes away from Ja'far to look out, seeing, in his mind's eye, the map of his city below. 

Ja'far listened to this without comment, still unreadable.  Sinbad thought of his question again, _Do you think your actions through?_ and repeated it, word for word in his mind, trying to puzzle out any hidden meaning.  He crossed his arms, blowing a strand of hair from his face, and let his eyes drift over Ja'far's attire, wondering if here, too, was a hidden meaning.  "Ja'far... what were you singing?"

A sigh, quiet enough that it could blend with the nighttime breeze.  Then Ja'far shifted a step, then another, resuming the light-footed swirling from before instead of answering.  Sinbad watched, breath slowing as he concentrated, watching the demon dance across the floor.  When a song lilted out across the space between them, Sinbad felt tears inexplicably prick the corners of his eyes... if this was a lullaby, it was a lullaby of loss, sung by a dreamer far from home.  The dress billowed silkily around Ja'far's form, reminding Sin of the wash of the waves far below.

"There was a place," Ja'far finally spoke in their own tongue again, in little more than a husky whisper Sin had to strain to hear.  "Many, many years ago... It was not close to the ocean, and many of the inhabitants never dreamed of the waves but in the oldest of folklore, in the dreams of gods."  His arms drew close to his body, one hand coming up to curl over a bare shoulder.  "The sun was hot, but the plains were fertile and horses ran across the golden fields like floodwater, and the twin rivers shone brightly with the hopes the people." 

Ja'far hummed a few more bars, body swaying, and Sinbad swayed too, feeling disjointed in space.  "The people sang bright songs as they tended their fields, and they danced by firelight in the evenings to give thanks for bountiful harvests.  In time, the fortunes of the people grew with their numbers and they began to create great structures, gathering together as not just a people but a nation."  Sin's eyes followed Ja'far's fingers as they traced the curve of a collarbone, rubbing along a scar Sinbad had marked but never had the courage to ask about before. 

"With that formation... came the nobility, the kings.  The priests of the land came together... and they summoned many creatures on the advent of the crowning of their first high king, to create a mighty city.  These beings of magic..."  Ja'far swirled, a shadowed look coming into his eyes.  "Some they summoned for battle, to unite the scattered tribes between the two rivers.  Some, they burdened with the manual labor to build their city.  Great buildings rose overnight, towers the like that had never been seen before."

With his heart in his throat, Sinbad watched as Ja'far slowly stopped spinning, head tipped toward the ceiling.  "And the last, they summoned for the king himself.  What he had in human attendants, he also had in magical creatures."

The moonlight shone down between them, as effective a barrier as any physical boundary as Ja'far stood still, head upraised but body slashing a dark link of ink in the background of greys and whites.  "The people lived well, but the king?  Ah, he had whatever his heart desired."  He held up a hand, fingers splayed.  "The fiercest of soldiers..." He curled up one finger.  "The most skilled of craftsmen, the most attentive of diplomats.." Two more fingers curled in.  "... The wisest of scholars..." And, lastly, in little more than a whisper, "And whatever attendants he wished to tend to his desires."   Ja'far looked his way, but _through_ him rather than at him, and Sinbad shifted his weight uncomfortably.

Ja'far lowered his hand.  "Many of my brethren loathe humans.  Do you know why, Sinbad?"  Slightly startled, Sinbad opened his mouth, but Ja'far continued before he could begin to even articulate a reply.  "It is not an inbred thing,  imbued into our essence.  Indeed, many of us were intrigued, even pleased in some cases, to first be summoned into the real world.  However, not many of us kept that mindset."  Hands clenched, digging into the flesh of Ja'far's arms.  He laughed, but the sound was broken, like glass rather than human amusement.  "What do you see, Sinbad?  A most convincing illusion, perhaps.  I look human.  Touch me and  my skin would be warm.  I can wrap myself in many of the forms of this world's creatures.  But I am quite the mockery, aren't I?"  A crimson light seemed to flash in the depths of his eyes.

Why was Ja'far telling him this?  It wasn't just for shock value, Sinbad told himself.  There has to be something here from which I must learn.  "Why... Why is it, then, that demons hate humans?" 

He didn't like the way that Ja'far looked at him, hunted, as though they never had met before.  "You humans are full of pride and selfishness."  For the first time, real emotion crept into Ja'far's face, something like grief and... "So wrapped up in your self-importance, with your _plans_ and _needs_ that you destroy before looking, use before thinking."  Ja'far was not facing him fully, turned to the side partway, but in this moment he almost looked... more human than Sinbad had ever seen him, fragile and broken.  "Your kind has used mine for terrible purpose, for sport and for labor, and yet you call us freaks and evil.  Yet humans, at their worst..."

Sinbad wished he could cover his ears, but nothing could stop this inexorable outpour.

"Humans can be worse than any demons, Sinbad. I have seen it with my own eyes... and in your depths, you know you have too."

"So all humans are inherently evil?"  Perhaps this was inappropriate, but it was hard to except all of this in one go.  "Yes, people... have done bad things.  But humans have done good things too."

"Sin..." Ja'far's voice did not sound angry, but... tired and pained.  "Have I told you about why all my forms have scars?"  At Sin's slow shake of his head (thinking about the scars that he'd seen peaking around Ja'far's legs), he continued, distant, "I will not give you the fine details.  But someone long ago, they... They damaged my essence so badly that no matter how I appear, the marks remain.  They made me helpless and laughed at my struggles, and there was no redemption that day for me... nor has there been any day hence."

  Sinbad felt nothing but dawning horror.  "You... you don't mean..."  _No... Please, gods, tell me I am not hearing this_.  Then, softly, "Why?"  Why tell him this now, of all times, when obviously it was such a deep hurt?

They stood part and the breeze rustled between them, tossing the folds of Ja'far's dress and catching the ends of Sinbad's hair.  In the city far below, the lights at the seashore were dimmer, but still steady, and Ja'far finally raised his hand to keep scraggly ends of his hair from tumbling into his eyes.  "... I don't know."  Grey eyes looked up and met his fully, not expressionless but still reserved.  "Today... The memories pushed their way into the forefront of my mind.  This dress," He pushed out the folds along his outer thigh, "I remember seeing a young girl wearing in that far-off country, and I remember her laughter - I was standing outside my post, and she handed me a crimson flower, wishing me luck on their festival..." He added a few lines in a different tongue, fast enough Sinbad could not make out more than a few phrases. 

"Ja'far."  At the other's glance, Sinbad asked, softly, "That country.. is long gone?"

"... Yes."

Maybe one  day, he'd ask about the details, but not... not now.  "This country will not fall into ruin."

"No country is founded without the will to endure."  A shrug.  "People change.  Places change."

_Everything fails eventually_ hung unvoiced in the air afterwards.

Sinbad ran his hand over his throat, settling it along his sternum.  "I thought... You seemed happy, lately.  Don't you remember the contract?  I told you that I wanted to change your mind."

"Yes... you did."  Ja'far studied him.  "You have been... perseverant."

"Do you feel like you've changed?"  Sinbad didn't truthfully expect an answer, and wasn't surprised.  "I don't know what is ahead.  But I," and he opened his arms, palms up in front of his body, "Am human, filled with human determination and human sympathy.  If we keep trying... Every human has a dream, and they don't extinguish so easily."  He looked at his hands, watching the play of muscles under skin.  "Are you telling me demons do not have dreams?"

"Many of us abandoned them."  Ja'far began walking toward the door, dress swishing around his legs, and Sinbad watched him move, feeling unable to stop him.  But...

"Did you?"

"That remains to be seen."  Sinbad wanted to scoff, and at another - at any other - time he would have, denying that as an answer - but now his tongue was leaden.  Ja'far paused, several steps from the door.  "If nothing else, Sinbad, remember what was.  I..." An exhale. "I think I would like to see if you would be able to avoid the mistakes of your forebears.  I can hope, but I do not yet dare dream."

"If you could invest in anything... would you not toss your dream with mine?"  Perhaps that question was impetuous.  But Sinbad... Somewhere, he felt like Ja'far was asking something important of him.  Some unspoken promise that Sinbad could only just graze the edges of.  "At this moment, do you think you will ever revoke what you said?"

A few more steps placed Ja'far before the threshold.  "No," said Ja'far, his hand against the doorframe, head upturned but face hidden from Sin's sight: in that moment, he was hidden by the shadows cast by the newborn city's light.  "Humans can never change."

Sinbad looked past him, wistfully.  "I would like to prove you wrong."

Ja'far said nothing.

Then he passed through the door.

 


	6. Banter

_Some Years Prior_

Sinbad stumbled out onto the deck, feeling Ja'far's footsteps close behind him, and collapsed against the side of the ship's railing.  "Stop - stop, my stomach hurts, I can't breathe!" He wheezed, shaking with laughter.  Ja'far shook his head as he kicked the door closed with a foot, crossing the deck to lean over the rail.  "For Solomon's sake, Ja-"

"Hinahoho was _not_ supposed to tell you that story."  Funny how Ja'far could make his voice sound so threatening when his face was nothing but _exasperated_ and perhaps the slightest bit amused.  "I know you guys were at the ale already, but I'm sorry, Sinbad, but for once I'm going to let you drink as much as you want."

Sinbad perked up, realizing that he had brought his (mostly empty) mug with him in his semi-delirious state.  "Really?"

"Yes.  Get absolutely smashed.  I need you to forget what you were just told."

"Not happening!"  Sinbad downed his last mouthful and let his mug thump against the floor in emphasis.  "I need some good blackmail, you are always ratting me out - hey!"  He found himself overcome with giggles as a bare foot planted itself on his shoulder and shoved him sideways to the deck.  Sin looked up from his lopsided position, grinning fully.  "I mean, I'm not _judging_ , but of all ways for the _big scary demon_ to reveal himself -"

"Shut up," Ja'far threatened, tail weaving behind him as he crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.  "I don't remember you having any decent, let alone good, plans for a reveal.  And it all worked out, so you don't need to get your sword in a twist."

Sinbad passed his hand over his face for a moment trying to stifle giggles.  It didn't seem to be having much effect.

"... You good yet?"

"One second."  Sinbad wiped away a tear or two of laughter than pushed himself back up.  "Hoo, that felt good, I haven't laughed like that in..."

"Humph."  A thud to his right, and Sinbad panned his head over to see Ja'far sitting beside him, hair ruffled and unruly in the gentle sea breeze.  "So what am I going to have to do to keep you from blabbing all over town?"

Sinbad quite seriously considered this request.  It wasn't every day he one-upped Ja'far in such a way.  "Can I get two?"

"Greedy.  Okay, sock it to me, then."

He held up two fingers.  "Go get me this many bottles from the store down below.  The good stuff, that aged stuff Mystras got before we left his place."

"You won't be able to stand straight tomorrow if you drink that all in one go."

Sinbad scoffed.  "I won't drink it _all_ at once, give me some credit.  That's the victory brew, we gotta _savor_ it.  And two," he ignored Ja'far's overdramatized eye roll, "Tell me your version of the story.  So then, hey, if I do spread the story I'm doing it right, yeah?"

Ja'far eyed him, amusement finally eclipsing all other emotion.  "You are quite incurable, aren't you, captain?"  Hastily, he held up a hand.  "No, please don't answer that, I can already picture your stupid reply.  All right, fine, but blab it needlessly and I will kick your ass, got it?"

Sinbad nodded twice, enthusiastic.  The liquor he'd already drunk down with the crew in the mess (only two mugs so far, mind) was buzzing pleasantly in his veins, and Ja'far was rarely this willing to diverge secrets.  For some unexplainable reason, it always made Sin feel like he had a self-consciously goofy smile whenever Ja'far willingly came to him with stories or conversation - like he'd been granted a small measure of trust.  He watched carefully as Ja'far closed his eyes, intent as he reached his hand out, once twice, then gave a startled little hum as that hand _disappeared_ as though it had slipped into some unseen box.  Ja'far shifted and groped around, and then pulled his arm out and gestured with a _come here_ flick of two fingers and two bottles shimmered out of nowhere, hovering a foot above the deck.

Sinbad reached out to cushion the one from hurling itself at his face, grunting slightly as Ja'far easily lifted the other.  He checked the spindly writing on the label and nodded in satisfaction, stowing it tenderly beside him before reaching out for the one Ja'far held.  To his slight surprise, Ja'far relinquished it easily, their hands brushing together for a brief moment.  It was this that Sinbad blamed the gentle shaking of his hands on as it took him several tries to wrench the cork out.

Sinbad raised the uncorked bottle to his lips, taking a small swig and humming in low content - and then he eyed the demon next to him.  He looked down at his bottle, then back up at grey eyes, then made a small gesture with it.  "Um - do you want to share as you tell me?"

He watched the tip of a tongue wet Ja'far's lips, and - quite contrary to his predictions - Ja'far reached out, gently prying the bottle loose. Sinbad wiped his suddenly sweaty palms against his pants as Ja'far raised the bottle, taking no more than a small mouthful before passing it back.  They passed a few minutes like this, Sinbad relishing the quietness after their boisterous dinner and the company and the cool breeze brushing the back of his neck.  Their hands, he noted as he glanced down, were so very close, resting on the desk - shuffle over several inches, he thought, and their very fingertips would be touching.

Sin gave his head a firm shake before taking another generous mouthful.  "Can demons get drunk?" he asked suddenly, gazing at the (now lighter) bottle.  "'S not fair if I'm getting smashed and you're all bored and unaffected..."

"Eh."  Ja'far shrugged.  "I feel a bit.. tingly.  I prefer not to drink, but we _can_ get drunk if we so desire."

"Huh."  Sinbad rolled his shoulders.  "So tell me about Hinohoho.  I mean, I knew that he'd found out, obviously.  He and Rurumu.  But I kinda just assumed you told them as a human or they saw your tail or... some shit like that."

A long sigh and Ja'far slumped back, tail resting comfortably around his feet.  "Fine, I'll... diverge.  So I started appearing as human to other people around... what, your second djinn?"

"Valefor," Sin put in helpfully.  "The puppy, as you put him, though he's got nothin' but affection for you..."

"Yes, well.  I mean, we timed it pretty well - nobody questioned me, and I assume no one did to you as well.  You have a knack of finding trusting people, you know, or turning skepticism into trust."

"Was... that a compliment?"

"The only one you're getting tonight."

"Well, damn, I better savor it."  Ja'far made a small negative noise and looked to the side, and in any other lighting it would have sworn Ja'far's cheeks were tainted the slightest bit pink.  He didn't comment, though, and after a moment the other seemed to have recollected his thoughts.

"Alright, so - you know how Rurumu has always had this weird soft spot for me?"

"Yeah, I mean - she practically adopted you, which was hilarious for a couple reasons -"

"Shut up a moment, Sin."  Sinbad exaggeratedly clapped a hand to his mouth, only to snicker as Ja'far huffed at him.  "I was a little weirded out, for the record, but that was also strangely... nice, I guess.  Or at least, that's the kind of mindset I had until she actually started foisting her kids on me."

Sinbad nodded, remembering, and Ja'far continued.  "Now, she's a brave lady, letting a demon watch her kids even if unknowingly - what was it you told them at first, I was an assassin or something akin?  Well, I knew nothing about kids and tried to be distant on purpose, in case the big reveal came in a bad way."  Ja'far ran a hand through his hair ruefully.  "Obviously it didn't work out because I somehow became the go-to babysitter - and the oddest thing?  I can't say that after the first few times it bothered me.  I mean, yeah, kids can scream and be smelly, but they take after their mom and - well, I suppose somewhere along the line I did start to not want to see them upset or hurt."

Another swig and Sin asked, "Now that I think about it, they always did - do - seem to listen to you really well."

"Yes, well - here's the first part of my mistake - you know what would always, _always_ work to quiet them down?"

"What?"

"Beats me why, but they loved watching me transform.  Every kid has to crawl over me when I'm a dragon -"

Sinbad choked and nearly spewed his mouthful of wine.  When he'd ceased sputtering, he laughed, looking over at the demon.  "And here I was wondering why Hinahoho was freaking - I seem to remember him looking haunted around the time you told me that they knew."

"Listen and I'll get to that point, sir impatient."  Ja'far cleared his throat, reaching out for the bottle again.  "If I had to watch a bunch of them, I eventually just started transforming and wrapping my coils around them - they couldn't escape and they always liked to fall asleep beside my neck.  It was a bit... endearing, I guess that would be the word for it. 

"But one day, I may have fallen into a doze as well - so instead of Hinahoho and his wife walking into a room with your white-haired assassin watching the kids, they walked into a dragon curled around their kids."

Sinbad felt a grin re-spreading across his face.  "So was Hinahoho as calm and collected as he implied?"

Ja'far shook his head, a small smirk twisting his lips.  "Funnily enough, he was the one who freaked - but Rurumu was as cool as an ice cube.  I woke up to him yelling - he almost drove that stupid coral broadsword thing into by back, and he probably would have got me if Rurumu hadn't stopped him.  The kids are all asleep still, mind you.

"And then she looks at me, point blank, and says, 'Is there something you haven't told us, Ja'far?'"

"Ah, geez."  Sinbad ran his hand over his face.  "Did she know, or...?"

"If she did, she never told me after the fact.  I thought Hinahoho was going to pass out after I told them... what I was.  The real amuser, though," and Sinbad saw Ja'far's shoulders shake slightly, "was that I could still be around the kids, like nothing had changed."

Sinbad, suddenly feeling a bit more sober, leaned back and watched Ja'far for a while as they lapsed into silence, broken only by the wash of waves against the ship.  His eyes traced down to the bottle against his leg, and he took another swig (for courage, he told himself) before asking softly, "That meant a lot to you, didn't it?"

"What? I..." Ja'far trailed off, looking down at the hands resting on his lap.  He seemed to debate with himself for a moment, then made a noncommittal sound. "I still don't think I can label one sole emotion to it.  I mean, that is... brash, of a parent, to let their kids romp around and be in the care of a demon.  Especially with what humans generally think of demons.  It's just - counterproductive, you know?  But still..."  He exhaled, long and low.  "Still... and still... I cannot say I was completely unaffected by it."  He rolled his eyes in Sinbad's direction, shadowed.  "Silly, right?"

"I... I don't think so."  Sinbad met that gaze frankly, letting his shoulders rise and fall.  "But I'm human, so I can't tell you how you should feel."  He tapped his leg thoughtfully, muffling a yawn.

"Huh."  Ja'far made no further reply and they sat there, shoulders inches apart.  Sinbad snuck a glance and saw Ja'far staring up at the night sky, eyes hidden from his line of view.  In absence of being observed, Sinbad let his eyes linger over the contours of Ja'far's face... his lips.... the slight tips of his ears... the curve of his cheekbones.  He thought about how many times he'd watched that familiar face shift and morph, and yet there always seemed to be a common denominator to reading the emotions no matter what the form.

After a while he let his gaze roll up at well, immersing his thoughts in the lull of the waves and the far-off distant stars sprinkled in a cosmic dance overhead.  The rowdiness from before was gone, replaced by a kind of steadiness, like the moment of first walking up after a long sleep.  Sin let his eyes drift close, and then murmured quietly,

"If we traveled up there, would you follow me still?"

Drowsiness through his veins, but he still felt Ja'far's reply.  "Would I have a choice?"

"Mm..." If he fell asleep out here, he hoped no one would judge.  And no rain, that'd be nice too.  "But if you did."

Silence.

"We've yet to see.  But here I am.  And for now, here I'll remain."

 


	7. Triviality

_A Couple Years Later_

As his feet lightly lit upon the upper wall, Sinbad grinned, glancing behind him.  The thrill of magoi flooding his veins made his heart pump faster and _soar_ , and there was a thrill bordering on ecstasy in trying out a new equip for the first time.  He felt his hair billowing out, feathers brushing his neck and swaying in the corner of his vision, and he took a deep breath of moisture-laden air before laughing aloud at his triumph and pleasure.  "I thought you said you were gonna keep up, Ja'far!?"

A flicker of movement and there was Ja'far, landing beside him in a crouch, glancing up at him with eyes that were darker than their customary grey.  "Whenever did you get the impression that I was not, Sinbad?"  He rose up, brushing a lock of hair out of his face with easy distain.  He was, Sinbad noted with a fiery note burning in his heart, much more feral in times of action like this - full of speed and grace, the claws at fingers and toes more pronounced, the tips of horns curling toward the back of his skull, tail flowing behind him.  Ja'far met his gaze and Sinbad read full well the irritation for so openly staring, but Sinbad was too _in the moment_ to care much aside from a full-throated chuckle.

"I think I like this form," Sinbad declared, holding his arms out in from of him.  He felt replenished, on top of the world, and his eyes traced the crimson slashes decorating his torso.  With a sharp movement he clenched his fists, tilting his head back with what was probably a reckless smile.  "Djinn equip Focalor... Times like this and I truly feel alive, my advisor."

"Is that so?"  Ja'far crossed his arms, lithe, gazing not up at the cloudy evening-dimmed sky and ahead, over the empty steppe lands outside of the city walls.  "For all the fuss that you put up about accessing this as soon as possible... It is a good thing to hear, I suppose.  Believe," and he raised his chin here, "That if you weren't satisfied, I would kick your ass back into the last fortnight."

Sinbad rolled his shoulders, humming.  Then he glanced to the side.  "Hey, Ja'far?"

"Yes, Sinbad?"

"In your opinion, what is the best way to test out a new djinn?"

"How the hell should a demon kn-"

"C'mon, Ja'far, you can do better than that - you've spent the last, how long, around me?  I know you can't use a djinn or its powers, but you are not unfamiliar with magic or djinns themselves."

"Djinn magic and demon magic are integrally different to each other, I will remind you."  Sinbad could see the tips of Ja'far's sharp canines as he spoke.  "Nonetheless, if you are so bent on wrecking yourself as soon as you can - well, a physical test first is best.  Magic flows afterward."

"A display of physicality, hmm?"  Sinbad tipped his head, eyes half-lidded.  "Well, I think I have a solution, mayhaps."  And Ja'far's noncommittal reply, he added, "Would you like to help me test it?"

Ja'far merely raised his eyebrows.  Funny, how a whole ten-minute rant could be conveyed in a single look.

"I want to know my limits without having to pull it last-minute on the battlefield, especially now that more and more lives are riding on my blade.  And I want it to be secret - so with your power, you could keep up."

"So that's why you called me out on this misty, dreary day?"

"Yup.  Poor visibility," he swept a hand in front of them, "Empty land, time to ourselves..."

"Any restrictions?'

"Um."  Part of Sinbad was surprised that Ja'far was giving in so easily, and the other part was simply pleased that his plan had worked.  "Don't seriously... kill or maim me, please.  Let's make this a physical thing, not magical, so limit your transformation to one or two attacks. And, hm..." He pondered for a second.  "A race, first."  He pointed to the distance.  "To the yonder river.  When we both reach it, come at me with full intent."

Ja'far blew a drop of rain from the tip of his nose.  "If I didn't recall so vividly when you summoned me, I'd say you were a fool.  Fortunately, I still have all these years of experience to justify me still calling you one."

"Hey, now..."

"Pff."  Ja'far turned fully to Sinbad, baring his teeth.  "Use the demon as your punching bag, fine.  Don't go off crying when you lose."

"I'll do my best to not disappoint." Sinbad angled his body as well, facing Ja'far in turn.  "So you accept?"

"Indeed I do."  Ja'far lashed his tail, smirk turning into a mock-sweet look.  "On your mark?"

Sinbad barked forth a laugh.  "Get set, Ja'far."

Neither had a need to say 'go.'

A jumble of movement and they both leapt from the wall as one, falling toward the dusty ground below.  Sinbad's feathery hair billowed out around him and he narrowed his eyes, intent - but still caught the blur of twisting motion as Ja'far's human body elongated, shimmering several shades lighter than the rain-heavy clouds above.  Halfway down the length of the wall and Ja'far howled a battle cry, dragon ripping free and paws extending to the ground.  Sinbad yelled with him, feeling the magoi within him pulse in return.

Falling...

And their feet hit the ground and they shot forward like twin bullets, streaking forward over the plains.  Sinbad pull his whole being into _movement_ , barely skimming the grounds as he hurling himself forward.  He was dimly aware of Ja'far keeping pace beside him, head level with Sin's torso, winding forward like a snake darting through water.  His leathery ears were tight against his head, and as one great eye made contact with Sin the pupil seemed to glitter like a mirage, defiant and wild. 

A torrent of motion compressed and the river burst into view, swollen with rainwater.  Sinbad had pulled ahead by a few mere yards but he could hear - could _sense_ \- Ja'far on his tail, feel the pant of the great beast pulling air into mighty lungs.  That thought - that he was outracing a _dragon_ \- pulled Sinbad forward as though on wings and he reached the river's edge heartbeats before Ja'far, hurling his whole body up before the demon collided with him. 

A tremendous roar below him and he spun around to a haze of mist and sand, seeing Ja'far dig his paws into the ground, one leg skidding out behind.  In spite of the jumble of limbs and coils those glowing eyes did not leave his presence, and he gathered energy to propel himself upward, feeling the _click_ of teeth as Ja'far's jaws snapped inches from his feet.  Ja'far followed him upwards, evolving into a twisted game of tag - Ja'far lunging and he dodging at last minute, flipping and flowing until the ground yawed far below him, dizzyingly. The coils of the dragon drew tighter and tighter as the demon wound about him, giving him fewer and fewer options to dodge without getting hit. 

Seeing an opening, he darted forward and slapped his open palm against the side of Ja'far's neck as he careened past, narrowly avoiding being slapped by a tail.  "Not good enough!" He shouted, elated at how easily the movements of this equip came to him.  Nonetheless, he knew this was not a form he could hold forever, but - he wanted to draw out this exertion-filled moments, wanted to feel his muscles burning as he pushed toward the limit.  "Come on, Ja'far, give me a challenge!" 

Ja'far retreated about fifty yards, hovering and twisting in midair.  Sinbad, too, halted and floated, watching the wrinkle of Ja'far's muzzle as he bared his teeth, poised and waiting for whatever the demon would throw at him next.  It wouldn't seem like he would have to wait long, for Ja'far flexed his talons, rolling his eyes down to examine them.  He stretched his claws wide and _howled_ , a deep, belling sound, then that long neck seemed to coil in and the shape of the dragon disappeared, wrapped into a bubble of darkness which pulsed in once, twice.  Sinbad breathed in sharply, mentally probing his magoi reserves, then started and leapt a few bounds backwards as the bubble pushed out sharply, torn from the inside.  A moment of nothing - and then it burst and a mostly-human Ja'far was hurtling at him.

Mostly human because now he had _wings_.

Sinbad had only a moment to gape before the demon was on him - and he almost couldn't help it, because aside from the dragon he'd never seen Ja'far before in any form where he had large wings except when they were obviously part of whatever creature he'd transformed into.  These wings, though - they were huge, stretching twice Sinbad's height at their span (he estimated), and darkly iridescent, shimmering like raven feathers.  He had no time to stare and admire, however, because Ja'far was upon him, striking out with a clawed hand and their game of chase turned into a close-combat melee of punches and kicks.

A particularly tense flurry of sidewipes and Sinbad had to laugh again, this time at how in-sync they were - each attack was deflected easily into the next move, as easy and flowing as a preordained chain.  Those grey eyes across from him were narrowed in concentration, teeth slightly bared. 

Eventually, Sinbad saw the opportunity to land a blow.  Ja'far must have sensed it, but either he was getting tired or was just too slow to react, for Sinbad smashed him in the shoulder with a punch and he dropped several feet.  He yelped and spun down, eventually righting himself and bearing back upwards with slow strokes of his wings, climbing back to Sinbad's altitude.  Waiting, Sinbad rolled his shoulders, gazing back the way they came at the now distant city walls.  Maybe a minute more of transformation before it became dangerous to maintain it, he estimated, then jerked back with a gasp as something  whistled past the cover of his eye. 

He dropped back a few steps and flailed around wildly, looking for his opponent (it had been a stupid idea to take his eyes off Ja'far when he knew full well the other would take advantage of his distraction).  Nothing, nothing - and there he was, yards above Sin, those wings stretching in a breathtaking display. 

_Magnificent._

At least, those were his thoughts until Ja'far swept those powerful wings down, shooting a cloud of - black feathers...?

Sinbad quickly realized that these missiles were more like knives as one skimmed by his cheek and he cursed out loud, dashing to the side - but as Ja'far swept his wings again Sinbad realized that Ja'far wasn't going to stop at one attack.  He shot upward like an arrow, pivoting and swerving to avoid the feather-knives, and burst into the clouds above.  Rain droplets rolled down his chest, chilling his skin, but he moved forward, dimly extending his senses.  Somehow, he could feel Ja'far below him, waiting for Sinbad to reappear - and as his magoi reserves began to flutter with him he oriented himself directly above (most people have a natural blind spot above their heads, right?) and plunged downward -

\- Emerging directly over Ja'far's head.  He had the faintest impression of Ja'far's startled face, staring up at him before they _collided_ , except instead of throwing his weight into a punch or hit Sinbad tackled Ja'far, wrapping his arms around the demon and letting gravity take hold.

They plunged downward together, Ja'far wiggling in Sinbad's grasp.  "Let go!" He yelled, wings flailing against Sinbad's shoulders, hands scratching at Sin's sides.  "I don't - let - " and when Ja'far's voice faltered Sinbad looked into Ja'far's face, grey eyes meeting tawny for a few eternities...

And Sinbad's energy abruptly ran out as the djinn equip dissolved into smoke and feathers that were quickly blown away by the speed of their fall.  In their proximity, Sinbad could make out the dilation of Ja'far's pupils as shock took hold, and suddenly the arms which had been struggling against him now were wrapped around his back, wings sweeping up to engulf Sinbad's vision.

"SIN!"

Funny how vividly Sin could feel the other's heart pounding against his own, feel the strain of the other's back muscles as they shook against the strain of slowing their descent.  He felt strangely lethargic, as though it would be so easy to just... close his eyes and sleep, but the wild note of Ja'far's voice made him struggle against it.

"Damnit, Sin, hold on -"

And the world seemed to shake and spin around them, and in what seemed like an eternity later Sinbad opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) to see Ja'far's concerned face inches from his own.

It came to Sinbad, then, that they were no longer falling - now he was resting on the muddy ground, although his head was oddly comfortable.  He blinked, disoriented, registering the powerful flicker of _relief_ that had fluttered over his demon's face.  With a slow, careful movement he reached up to rub his face, feeling the latent ache of his muscles overtaxed by the djinn equip.  His temples throbbed, and with a wince he thought, _I'm going to regret this in the morning, aren't I._

He must have also muttered something of that nature out loud, because Ja'far snorted, leaning farther back.  "It serves you right, idiot.  I should leave you to sleep out here - maybe clean water would restore your wits."

Sinbad stared up at Ja'far's face, not quite yet grasping why the other was upside down in his point of view.  "Did I overdo it?"  He winced, adjusting his neck against whatever it was pillowed against.  " _Um_... I'm sorry, Ja'far.  I didn't think that the cooldown would hit me quite that hard."  A growl from his stomach, and Sinbad felt his cheeks warm slightly.  "Thank you for helping me test it."

"Well, it's not every day I get to rail against you like that."  Sinbad watched the flutter of Ja'far's eyelashes as the other looked across the dreary grassland.  "I suppose you didn't do too poorly - how do you feel you performed?"

"Focalor... is powerful, and his magoi courses through my veins like a tornado."  Sinbad let his chest bell out as he inhaled, then sighed.  "I definitely understand his nature a bit better... Next time, I think I can isolate how to use his brand of magic."

"Hm."

A few seconds passed, and then Sinbad asked, "What exactly happened?  Did I pass out?"  That would be a bit embarrassing - yeah, he'd almost done so for Baal, but that had been his first ever full djinn equip.

Ja'far glanced down at him.  "I don't think so... you just kinda felt dazed when I grabbed you.  I did stop us from plowing into the ground, so any thanks you'd like to give would be gladly received, mind."

Sinbad gave him a lazy smile.  "Thank you, my dear companion."

"Stop that."  Ja'far swatted his forehead, tail thumping slightly to Sin's left.  "Sincere, not foolhardly."

"Ouch, rude! Alright, alright, I learned my lesson," Sinbad finally laughed, feeling a bit of his headache finally bleed away.  "Still, you are the best."

"I know."  The mass cushioning Sinbad's head seemed to shift, and Sinbad furrowed his brow slightly, trying to connect the dots and figure out how there was a - he paused.  Then he reached up, as slowly and stealthily as he could, and ran his fingers against the ground by his head - and ended up petting Ja'far's knee.

Ja'far shrieked and shoved Sinbad away, unceremoniously dumping him fully on the ground.  "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Owow - hey, hang on, hold up!" He instinctively reached out at the demon who was clambering to his feet, ears tinted red.  "Were you - um - " _Doing what I thought you were doing?_ "Were you letting me rest my head on your lap?"

"Shut up, stupid Sinbad!"  Yes, Ja'far's face was definitely red now, or at least that's what Sin saw before the other turned.  "You were really out of it, and you had mud all over you, and -"

"Ja'far, hang on."  He held up his hands in a placating gesture as he rolled onto his knees, watching the demon as though he might a startled animal.  "Was... Did I scare you?"

Ja'far humphed, still turned away.  "No, idiot.  You just..." He fell quiet for a second, then finished, "You weren't opening your eyes."

Sinbad stared up at Ja'far, mouth slightly agape.  For all their years together... Ja'far made it clear from the start that he didn't like being touched, and after several quarrels Sinbad did his best to make sure that people didn't try to on accident.  He _had_ on some occasions, mostly unavoidably, but the times that Ja'far had let himself into such close contact... Sinbad could count them on one hand.  And for him to have done it when Sinbad was weak and defenseless...

He felt his own cheeks heat.

The wind swirled around them, tugging at their clothes, and Sinbad finally blew a raindrop from his lips and bent his head toward the ground.  "Thanks for the save, Ja'far."  He tried to inject as much honesty - as much _sincerity_ \- as he could into that simple, single phrase, and when he dared to peak up through his bangs his demon was gazing at him with an odd look in his eyes, almost... touched, if Sinbad dared name the emotion in steely grey eyes. 

Then the moment had passed and Ja'far turned away fully, tail tucking close behind him.  "You're dragging me along on your foolhardy quest, right?  You can't prove me wrong if you're in a crater in the ground."  His voice was subdued, but it picked up as he took a few steps forward.  "Come on, I would like to get back before the true darkness sets in and our companions are rioting in the streets looking for you.  I don't have the energy to carry you all the way."

"What about over the walls?"  Sinbad offered, finally climbing to his feet and making a face at the muck covering his clothes.  Helpfully (and a bit ruefully) he added, "I think the gates close at night, too."

"Are you -"  Ja'far grumbled, low in his throat.  "Fine, but only when the city is a bit closer." He deliberated, then added, "I want a hot meal too."

"I can arrange that."

"... Serious?"

"Ja'far," Sinbad caught up, standing squarely beside him, "Get us back, and after what you did we can have _whatever_ meal in the city I can provide."

"Really?" Ja'far asked, somewhat peppier.  "I am going to take that claim very seriously, you know.  I hope you know how much gold you have on you."

"Ah, come on."  Sinbad stepped forward, feeling his companion trot to walk beside him instead of behind like he usually did.  In light of that Sin couldn't help but toss a smile to the side, bone-weary and aching but feeling unexplainably satisfied. "And hey - if I based my contract off anything, it was my ability to keep my promises, yeah?"

 


	8. Denouement

_Epilogue_ _(Many, many years later)_

King Sinbad was dying.

The words passed on the streets, heads bent together, gloom and sadness in faces lined with worry.  The city was abnormally quiet, clouds nearly obscuring the sky but releasing no rain, and even the birds were subdued in their chatter. 

The king's quarters were at the center of the hush, attendants hurrying with bent heads.  He had ruled for many years, now, with his history passing from story and (so they said) deep into legend, imbued with descriptions of kindness and justness and bravery.  No man, they said, nor beast, nor any force could have stopped that man, the embodiment of determination.  But old age and time and finally succeeded at chipping away that vitality, and no longer could he rise.

King Sinbad was dying. 

Around his bed sat his closest friends - the magician Yamuraiha, the swordsman Sharrkan, Masrur, Pisti, and Spartos, the others having gone off to their eternal rest over the years.  Over the past days they had slipped in and out, trying to keep up faith and cheerfulness, but as the king's health declined they had finally concurred to wait together, not wanting to let their old friend depart alone.  And they were not the only visitors - over the years, Sinbad had made so many acquaintances and touched so many lives that there were no shortage of well-meaning visitors.  Even the magis, Yunan and Aladdin, were there, watching quietly. 

They all were taking it badly in their own ways, but the one who inspired the most sympathy of all their friends had not moved from Sinbad's side since they day he was bedridden.

Ja'far sat to Sinbad's right, in a simply carved chair, near motionless save for the flick of his eyes watching his king.  As their contract neared its close, and due to the length of Ja'far's materialization in the real world, his powers were not as they had been.  Indeed, it had been a couple of years since anyone had seen him transform or use more than the simplest of magics.  He sat there, hands folded neatly upon his lap, almost startlingly human.  His keffeyeh was gone, the only adornment that he'd allow being the single red gem dangling from its chain against his brow.  In Sinbad's sickness, he was the acting regent, but the few who had come seeking advice had been met here, in this quiet room lulled by the whisper of the breeze and the far-off pulse of the waves.   

Today, the king's eyes opened - and despite the exhaustion brought on by his final days, those eyes were still as bright as they had ever been, the fire of years of determination still burning bright.  The words spoken to his friends are for their ears alone, but King Sinbad whispered in those hours his last requests - his dreams for the coming years.  Finally, when all memories were spent, and all tears were shed, he turned to his closest ally, the one who had first been by his side, and smiled, warm as the sunset and accepting. 

"May I ask one last request, my love?" he whispered, eyes gentle and soft, and his demon and dearest companion reached out to clasp his hand between two thinner ones, fingers rubbing over familiar calluses.

"Anything that I can grant in this world or the next," said Ja'far, "And it is yours, my king."

The others, sensing that the next words were for Ja'far's ears alone, bowed and left, filling one by one out the door.  Yunan and Aladdin were the last, the latter looking back in something like sadness and the former with a knowing kind of sympathy, reflecting (as he couldn't help it) back on all those years ago, when he had watched the young boy with so much potential extend his hand to a doubtful demon with a promise he had never forgot.  It was with a smile that he let the door swing shut, settling back in its frame with barely a whisper. 

When they were alone, Sinbad reached his aged hand up slowly, gently rubbing his thumb against Ja'far's cheek.  They looked at each other, Ja'far attempting to smile even as his own fingers closed firmly around the hand pressed to his face.  "What may I grant?" Ja'far murmured again, grey eyes searching that familiar yet weathered face.

Sinbad studied his love for a long moment, then turned his head, looking at the balcony and out at the clouded sky.  A breath escaped him, then he looked back, a small wry smile twisting his lips.  "I am sorry to leave you, my dear-"

"Sin..." Ja'far whispered, closing his eyes.

A soft laugh.  "I know.  I'm sorry... This is my only regret, that I have to leave you.  But, my dear..." He paused for a few seconds.  "When I go... I would like to be in the sunshine."  He looked up, eyes distant, ghosting back to all the times spend together.  "Part of me is surprised I never went down with a ship, after all my years of adventuring.... But for one last time, I want to be over the waves."  A cough.  "Like my own personal angel... Ja'far, could you... take me there, one last time?"

"Stupid."  A single tear dripped down Ja'far's face.  "I'm a demon, not an angel.  That's... quite the difference."

"For me, you may have well as been an angel." 

"You..." Ja'far gave a short laugh, finally opening up his watery eyes.  "If that is your wish... But if that is so, I want you to know... When you close your eyes, I am not coming back either."

"Ja'far, you -"

"I know that when you go, I could return to the other place.  The contract will dissolve.  But how could I go home now?  You..." Ja'far looked at him steadily.  "Sinbad." He said the work like a prayer.  "You are my home.  There is nowhere else that I want to go.  So when you go... I will fall to the sea with you."

"..."  Sinbad closed his eyes.  "I am glad... to have meant so much to you, Ja'far. I love you.  I always will."  He extended his other hand.  "Would you like, then... to go on one last adventure?"

Grey eyes met gold, and Ja'far reached out to lightly graze Sin's eyelids with the pads of his fingers, like a benediction.  "If you are certain... Close your eyes."

Outside of the room, people huddled together in clumps of two and three, subdued, each deep in their own thoughts.  Yunan and Aladdin stood apart, facing the windows, looking out over the cityscape.

"It's so strange..." Aladdin swept his hand over the ledge, contemplative.  "It seems such a short time ago, when Alibaba and Mor and I first visited here... That place that Alibaba used to glow about, having read King Sinbad's stories." He paused, palm flattening against the stone.  "This place never lost its glow."

Yunan adjusted his staff against his shoulder and chuckled.  "Well, I'd like to think the people were a part of that."  He glanced over his shoulder, toward the door.  "This place never would have been, if not for that man... We must uphold our promise to him well."

"Yes, I know." Aladdin looked sideways at his companion.  "Even if only for how he helped me as a child, I would still choose carefully for the proposal of the next King... Even if I am surprised he left no direct heir or choice."  He lowered his voice, speaking the next words carefully.  "You know, for the longest time... I had the sensation that he wished to choose Ja'far."

"... Ah."  Yunan tipped his head back.  "Well, it sincerely would have surprised me if the thought had never crossed his mind... But you and I both know it wouldn't do, having a demon govern humans.  And, well... I can't see Ja'far ever agreeing, the way he is now."  He reached out, watching the swirl of rukh over the city, faint yet purposeful.  "Mark my words... When Sinbad has moved on, we will not see Ja'far again."

"I know... It will be hard, losing those two at once."  Aladdin followed Yunan's gaze.  "One day, you will have to tell me how Ja'far came to be here."

"My dear friend, how would I -?"

"Come on." Aladdin smiled, not without ruefulness.  "I only felt the contract once, but I know you were the one to summon him."

"Heh.  Well..."  Yunan turned away, smiling sadly.  "That is a story for a different time."

Ripples of alarm, and someone screamed as howling came from the other room, like a cyclone of wind.  Aladdin whipped around in alarm, but Yunan stayed motionless, head bowed.  "Don't worry.  I believe, those two... Have gone on their last journey."

And those who opened the doors found the room empty, with no sign of king nor demon... Save for one lone dusky feather, trailing lazily along the floor.

When Sinbad opened his eyes again, they were high above the city, the island spreading out like a map below him.  He smiled, slow, reaching out a hand to spread over silver scales, smoothing over the rippled surface that he hadn't seen for a long time.  Sin was cradled carefully between large talons, yet he felt no fear for behind his head he could feel the steady _thump, thump_ of Ja'far's mighty heart pounding, a steady rhythm as soothing as the waves he'd traversed for many years. 

The wind whipped at his clothes as they climbed higher and higher, then their upwards motion stopped as Ja'far simply coasted, drifting forward on stiff wings, paws tucking Sinbad ever more carefully to his chest.  Sinbad dropped his gaze and watched his beloved island fall away, sinking into the distance as Ja'far flew further into the empty ocean.

Yet the ocean was not empty; out here, between waves and sky, the clouds were more broken and thick waterfalls of light seemed to flow out of gaps in the clouds.  As they eddied to the side, entering one of these torrents of light, Sinbad extended his palm, fancying that he could almost feel the molten warmth of sunlight pooling syrup-like through his hands, dousing Ja'far's scales in amber.  They drifted, silent, and the ocean waters spread out beneath; dark and dappled, almost becoming a sheen of smooth glass at their distance, and Sinbad felt like time was slowing as they hovered between the ethers and the abyss. 

Ja'far must have been using magic for they seemed to float effortlessly, and Sinbad turned with a smile as Ja'far beat his great wings slowly, bringing his face close to his cupped paws.  With a hand only trembling with the slightest of tremors, Sinbad reached out and stroked the smooth iridescent scales around his beloved's nose.  "Thank you, my love."

Ja'far hummed, slow, and that hum shifted into a melody, simple and winding like a tiny stream through rolling mountains, and Sinbad felt that peace wash over him, loosening his muscles.  Then he reached forward to wrap his arms around Ja'far's neck, as far as they reached, and it was not without grief that he heard the involuntary low keen rise up from Ja'far's throat.

He felt his consciousness beginning to slip, sky and sea beginning to blur mistily together, and he raised his head to press his lips to the tip of Ja'far's muzzle.  "I loved you so terribly much, Ja'far," he breathed.  "Whether there is a next life, or an afterlife... I'll see you there."

And as he drifted off, he had the sensation of human arms folding around him, and as wing beats lulled him away he heard that familiar loved voice whisper,  


"If humans have any power, it is the power to change, and thus you have changed me.  I will wait for you, Sinbad, no matter what lies beyond, and this is not goodbye.

"And if a choice has been granted to me, then I will choose to believe.

"Goodnight, Sinbad, my king...  Sleep well.

 "I...  Love..."

 

 

 

_FIN_

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on both Tumblr and Fanfiction.Net, and written over a year ago.  
> Thanks for reading!


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